


Fate's Bitch

by AlexiCyn



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: A few well deserved murders, A tiny bit of Weasleys suck, ABO verse, Creatures, D/s and BDSM possibly, EWE, F/M, Fascination with bodily fluids, Homophobic speech, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Questions Of Consent, References to Mpreg, Rimming, Swearing, Versatile sexual pairings, Violence, lots and LOTS of deliciously dirty Man/Man sex if I have anything to say about it!, mentions of childhood neglect
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-10
Updated: 2014-07-09
Packaged: 2018-02-04 04:13:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 38,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1765043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexiCyn/pseuds/AlexiCyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fate had never been particularly kind to him. His future had never really been his own. Since his very birth it seemed his path had been chosen for him, and time and time again *his* choices ripped from him. But this? This was one choice he was going to make for himself, and Fate be damned. He would prevail. He had to. The alternative was just too much for his tired soul to bear.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

This was started as part of the April, 2014 writers challenge on Rough Trade. http://www.keiramarcos.com/roughtrade/ 

It's completely unbetaed.

I will try to polish this up as I post it, but seeing as how I don't have a beta, read at your own peril. :D I hope the story is enough to get you past the rough spots, but if you see something glaring, please let me know. I'll most likely catch it eventually but... 

I would like to thank Keira Marcos for challenging me to get something written instead of just thinking about it. You've made me a happy minion. :D

And thank you to everyone who took the time to comment over on Rough Trade. I appreciate you all more than I can ever say. THANK YOU. My sincere apologies for not commenting there for your kind comments and feedback. I hope we can strike up a dialog here, and I promise I'll be better about replying.

This is a WIP. I PROMISE I have not abandoned it. Just taking me a bit to get it from my head, to the screen. I know where I want this to go, it's just about me getting it there. This idea has been kicking around for awhile, along with about 6 other half finished stories. I WILL finish this. :)

 **Now**... _on to the fun_!


	2. Death Shall Become Them

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Hippogriff Manure Has Hit The Silver, Oscillating, Muggle Cooling Device!

Someone was going to die. 

 

It was going to be slow, and painful, and they were going to regret ever, EVER crossing him, or his name wasn’t Draco Lucius Malfoy. 

 

He hadn’t spent the better part of a year with a maniac, and the maniac’s assorted followers and ball lickers without having learned something. What he’d learned was how to prolong agony until the recipient begged to just be killed. Begged to have it just, please, END already. He’d learned Hexes that could freeze you, or fry you and spells that made you want to peel of your own skin to get away from them. 

 

The most insidious ones of all of these were the time delayed spells. Spells that gave the victim a false sense of having escaped with their lives, only to turn and torture them in the last minutes before their slow, painful deaths. Some took hours before they struck, and others weeks or longer. But all of them, Hexes and Spells alike were designed to cause misery and Draco wasn’t above applying them to whomever it was that had tried to royally fuck them!

 

And fucked they were. They were both bleeding and his partner was not only bloody, but lying in an unconscious heap on the floor. Yes. If they got out of this mess, no, WHEN they got out, someone was going to pay. In blood, sweat and more than a few buckets of tears. 

 

The high borne, and foul tempered blonde had every intention of bringing all of his considerable ill gotten skills to bear on the sorry excuse for Hippogriff excrement that had betrayed them. For there was no doubt in his mind at least, that it had been a betrayal. Nothing else would explain why he and his partner had been beset the moment they had Apparated into the supposedly abandoned warehouse. 

 

*****

 

*Earlier that day. Ministry of Magic, Auror Offices:*

 

_“Just get on with the assignment, Malfoy. And take your partner with you!”_

 

_“Senior Auror Dawlish, with all do respect, Sir… we’ve checked that location. Twice. Sir. Wouldn’t it make more sense for us to —” It took all of Draco’s pureblood breeding to not roll his eyes at the idiocy standing before him._

 

_“Well I’M telling you that you will check it again, ‘AUROR’ Malfoy. Not that I need your approval, but I have it from reliable sources that there have been lights and activity there again!”_

 

_“Well then, shouldn’t we take a team…”_

 

_“NO! Since it’s abandoned, as you say, then it shouldn’t take more than the two of you to check it out. We would be remiss if we didn’t follow up all leads, particularly from sources I know to be reliable. Now stop dawdling. I have better things to do than to babysitting and explaining myself to the likes of you.”_

 

With that Dawlish had turned and left Draco seething in the hallway outside of the office he shared with his partner. Regaining his composure had taken more than a few moments. When finally he stuck his head into their office, he was greeted with a smile that was equal parts surprising and still unexpected every time it was aimed at him. The fact that anyone beyond his family looked at him with something other than distrust or disdain was still a bit of a surprise for Draco. 

 

In spite of them having been partners for nearly 5 years, their now easy camaraderie still made something in Draco’s chest tighten before it loosened again just as quickly. Shrewd eyes watched him from behind a desk over flowing with parchments, and photos, and paraphernalia of all sorts. Sneak a Scoops, and two way mirrors, and the latest, cordless, Extendible Ears that the Weasley’s had improved for Auror Department use. Fred Weasley often joked that his brother spent so much time working on ears as a way to make up for the one he was missing. That Fred Weasley was around to joke at all at his brother’s or anyone else’s expense was something of a miracle, as Draco knew he had nearly been lost to injuries during the final battle. 

 

He stood in the doorway, taking it all in, wondering on how his life had changed so drastically since those dark days. When he said nothing his partner had grunted and stood, grabbing his robes on the way out of their office. 

 

_“Let me guess, with the look on your face, something tells me we aren’t heading home early. Some other mind numbing assignment that should be handled by trainees that senior prat feels he MUST give to us?”_

 

_“10 points to Gryffindor. Who are you, and what have you done with my partner? That was far too astute!”_

 

They had bumped shoulders as they danced around one another in the doorway, with a good natured _“Prat”_ thrown in for good measure. _“Come on, the sooner we get this done, the sooner we can come back and file useless paper work in triplicate. Didn’t you say you were meeting Snape tonight?”_

 

Draco had simply nodded and fallen into step beside his Auror partner as they headed to the Apparition point. His only show of amusement being the tiny curl of his lips at the corner of his mouth. It never ceased to amaze him that the man by his side kept constant tallies on everyone within his inner circle. He was fairly certain that he’d only mentioned the meeting with Snape in passing several weeks ago as they were working out their schedules for the coming weeks. 

 

_“Well. You’ve got the coordinates. Side along me, and let’s get this show on the road.”_

 

Draco had only nodded and wrapped his arm around his partner before Disapparating with a small crack. 

 

*****

 

 _‘It was a set up!’_ as his partner would have said, if his parter was in any shape to say anything. As it was, Draco was busy taking inventory of his wounds, as well as those of the unconscious man on the floor. 

 

Draco had known they were in the shit as soon as they had landed in the warehouse, not outside of it, as was usual Auror policy. They had barely appeared before, spells and hexes had started flying and it was only their quick reflexes, and years of working together that had gotten their shields up in time to blunt the worst of it. To Draco if seemed as if they had been dropped into the center of a maze of boxes, with all the outer edges being occupied by hooded assailants. Back to back, and firing one volley after another, they eventually brought down several of their attackers. As one they headed to an opening they had blasted in their assailants ranks. 

 

They had dived behind a crates, panting and casting as quick as possible. Draco had done the shields, as that was his strong suit. His partner had aimed several cleansing and quick healing spells at them both, that was his strong suit. They cursed simultaneously when they tried to cast their Patronus Charms and they materialized but could go no where. 

 

_“Well this is”_

 

_“Fucked!”_

 

_“Indeed!”_

 

They sat catching their breath, firing a hex or spell around the edges and over the top of the crates from time to time to keep their attackers at bay. Without being able to call for help it was just them, on their own. It would probably be hours before anyone even noticed they hadn’t returned from their ‘routine check’ of the warehouse. 

 

_“Do you have your…?”_

 

_“Yeah, I do. But I’m not leaving here without you.”_

 

_“Look! If something happens to me, I want you to…”_

 

 _“No!”_ came the angry hiss. _“I’m not about to ditch my partner to save my skin, so fuck you! OK? Good. We’re getting out of this together!”_

 

The only reply had been a quick squeeze to his shoulder and a muttered _“Right. Let’s do this then.”_ Moments later they were on the move again. One going left, the other right, dropping and binding everything in their paths. They had almost hexed one another when they had met again at one of the junctions. Heart racing, Draco had felt more than ever like they were in a maze and someone was toying with him. Before he could say as much an unfamiliar spell had rang out, and their shields melted away like Honeydukes’ chocolates tossed into a room with Fiendfyre! Before either of them could fully get their shields back in place, an sickening purple black spell had been hurled their way. 

 

Knowing that nothing good was going to come of any spell that looked like THAT, and not willing to brook any argument from his entirely too stubborn for his own good partner, Draco had simply grabbed the man and activated the emergency portkey he’d been given. They were simply out magiced at the moment, if the shield melting spell was any indication, and their assailants weren’t above using some seriously Dark shit to take them down. 

 

Draco had known that it was going to hurt like a son of a bitch to get beyond the wards that had the warehouse on lockdown, but as the stomach twisting sensation of the portkey grabbed hold of them, he feared the blood curdling scream his partner loosed was not solely from their forced Apparition. 

 

***** 

 

Flicking his wand, he’d removed both their Auror robes and their shirts to get a better idea of what needed to be done. He was pleased that his own wounds seemed mostly superficial. A few bruises here, and cuts that could be healed and spelled away quickly.However when he turned his full attention to partner his response was an angry hiss. There was a nasty gash up one side that, from the looks of it was going to leave yet another scar on the finely muscled torso taking shallow breaths on the cabin floor. 

 

_‘Well Potter, you’re not going to forgive me if you get an infection from that wound. Let’s get this over with’._

 

Draco rose with some effort and a grunt from where they had landed in a rather unceremonious heap when they had portkeyed in. Grateful that he hadn’t lost his wand in the ensuing mayhem, Draco flicked his wrist and levitated Potter’s still form onto the black leather couch that was across the room. 

 

Once finished, Draco stood, stretched, and began to take a quick inventory of his surroundings. This was one of Harry’s smaller safe houses. This much he knew. He had been in a few of them, though he wasn’t sure how many he actually had, or if anyone but Harry knew of them all. Draco could remember that he had teased Harry about it when he first heard about them.

 

_“Paranoid, Potter?”_

 

 _“No Malfoy. Not paranoid. Just… cautious.”_ Harry had looked at him sideways, a smirk playing around his mouth and playfulness dancing is his green eyes. _“Besides, being paranoid doesn’t mean they aren’t actually out to get you.”_

 

Malfoy had barked out a most undignified laugh and rolled his eyes. Their words held no heat, and the ribbing was actually good natured now between the two former enemies.

 

 _“Fine Potter. You keep your hidey-holes then.”_  

 

_“Thanks for the permission, Malfoy. You approval means a lot to me.”_

 

Potter had bumped their shoulders and they both laughed like loons until their supervisor, Senior Auror John Dawlish had wandered by and scowled at them. The man’s look of barely contained fury had sent them both into fits of even more laughter. 

 

When Potter had come to him one day, and thrust a silver bracelet at him, his response was to raise one well manicured blonde brow and wait. Thankfully, it didn’t take long.

 

 _“It’s an emergency portkey.”_ Before Draco could respond, Harry had rushed forward. _“In case you get stuck somewhere and need a last ditch way out. If anyone but you takes the bracelet off, it will alert me.”_ At this both of Draco’s eyebrows had shot towards his hairline. _“It’s Goblin made, so it can get you past most wards, even Goblin made ones. Though it will hurt like Blast-Ended Skrewt attack to port through wards like that, but you know…better than getting AKed. Just think ‘Sanctuary’ as you press down on it.”_  

 

Draco had blinked rapidly for several seconds. Certain that it was just the dryness in their tiny office that was making his eyes itch, and feel prickly. When the feeling had passed, he’d looked at his partner and smiled a tentative smile. Only response he could muster was _“Why?”_

 

Potter blinked owlishly before a smile spread across his face. His reply a simple “You’re my partner. Why not.” And that was all there was for it. They’d not spoken about Draco’s personal portkey again.

 

 _‘Right’_ Draco sighed to himself _‘No more time for reminiscing’_. From where he stood he could see the living room, dining room, and kitchen. There were stairs off to his left that he assumed led to bedrooms and bathrooms. The fireplace to the right he was sure would be locked until Potter felt safe enough to come out of his bolt hole. The same went for the shutters on the windows. Like all of Potter’s safe house, this one was sure to be under a Fidelius Charm, with several other Notice Me Not Charms and various Wards. 

 

Over their years as partners, Draco had seen a few of these houses, though never the same one twice. Regardless, they were always well fortified, and well stocked. Looking over to the couch he noticed that Harry had barely moved. “Right… right. Let’s get this show on the road.” When not so much as a moan came from his partner Draco’s blonde brows knit together but he said no more. A Feather-Light, and a quick Mobilicorpus had Harry’s body following Draco up the stairs to master bath he was sure would be there along with a very well stocked potions cabinet. It had to be. Otherwise they were well and truly stuffed. 

 

**************

 

Draco breathed a sigh of relief as he reached the upstairs landing and found the layout to be identical to the other houses he had been in previously. Ignoring the large, ornate double doors he headed instead to one of the smaller doors, and smiled as he’d found the master suite on the first go. In the past he had teased his partner about being so predictable. Having the same layout from house to house. Harry had simply smiled at him _“Nothing wrong with having someone or something around one can rely on.”_ Draco had noticed the light flush on his cheeks, but neither of them said anything more after that. 

 

He’d once asked Harry about his habit of not using the master suite for its intended purpose, and he’d just cocked his head to the side and smiled before answering Draco’s question with a question of his own. _“Tell me, Malfoy, if you were looking for someone in their house, which room would you look in first?”_  

 

Draco had opened his mouth to issue a scathing comment about his partner’s issues with paranoia when he’d snapped it shut again, realizing that it actually made a twisted kind of sense. After all, say if two or three people found their way into the house, faced with 4 or 5 doors, they would most likely go for what looked to be the master suite first. He had simple shaken his head accompanied by a muttered _‘Touché.’_

 

Potter had laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. _“Don’t worry about it, Malfoy. I’m sure if anyone actually manages to make it into one of my houses, they are as likely to check the cupboard under the stairs, as they are to check the master suite.”_

 

Draco’s spluttered indignation at Harry’s casual reference to his wretched Muggle upbringing had left the other man in stitches. Double over with laughter, it had taken Potter several minutes to compose himself enough to show Malfoy around more of the house they were in. 

 

The memories brought a fond smile to Draco’s otherwise tense countenance. He tsked before mumbling “All this worry you’re giving me is going to cause premature wrinkles, Potter. You had best be alright!”  

 

Slipping his secondary wand out of the holster, Draco flicked his wrist, lighting lamps, and turning back the bed covers. He made is way into the master bath, Harry floating by his side, and was pleased to see it had a large tub, and bench seating in the shower, as well as a chaise in the changing area. Another flick of his wrist had the chaise covered, and all the lights available to him turned on. He needed to see what he was doing if he was to properly clean and tend to Harry’s wounds. 

 

Another few flicks had the rest of their soiled clothes off and into the laundry. Though he hadn’t seen them, Draco knew the various houses most have an accompaniment of house elves available to them. Stasis charms could only do so much, and the homes were much too well maintained for them to simply be in limbo. He would try calling for Winky, or another of the elves that he was familiar with once he’d gotten his partner’s wounds seen to. They would need provisions, and maybe a note to his Godfather for a few potions Harry might not have stocked. 

 

He wasn’t sure exactly what wards Potter had in place, but he doubted they would keep him from summoning help he might need to tend to Harry’s injuries. 

 

Auror work was dangerous, and over the years, they had both had their fair share of scrapes, scratches and various level of injury. During a discussion on how much they both loathed St. Mungo’s, for different and similar reasons, both had decided that self knowledge would be to their benefit. Over the years, they had taken so many various healer courses that both were perhaps a year, or so, give or take a month away from an actual general healers license if they ever wished to pursue it. Sure there would be some practical work to do, working on wards and such, but they already had much of the classes already covered, and had been one another’s ‘patients’ more times than Draco cared to think of, and definitely more times than their friends and families were aware of. They had taken both magical, and muggle healer classes, and both were certified as ‘First Responders’ in the Muggle world.

 

If anyone had told Draco during the beginning of his 6th year at Hogwarts that he would have anything to do with Muggles in a positive way, he would have cursed them for the insult. Now? He couldn’t imagine how much poorer his life would be without the mad humans in it. After all, if they could invent Starbucks Frappucinos and cellphones, they couldn’t be all bad. 

 

Casting a hasty cushioning charm, Draco knelt at Harry’s side. A quick touch of his damp, enflamed skin confirmed what Draco’s visuals had already told him. Harry had a fever, and possibly the beginnings of an infection if the angry redness along his scar was to be believed. A quick wrist movement had the cupboard door open and several vials smacking into his outstretched palm.Laying them on the cushioned tiles he then cast a localized binding charm to stabilize Harry’s body. 

 

Draco was certain that he could successfully tend Harry’s wounds, regardless of how bad they appeared at the moment. He simply needed to get them properly cleaned, and hope he had all the various potions on hand that he might need.  

 

A localized Immobulus left Draco fairly confident that he could work without giving Harry any pain medications. As it was, he wasn’t comfortable giving him anything until he was sure he had not been concussed in the attack. It was going to be a long, uncomfortable night for Draco, and possibly a painful one for his Auror partner. A medical grade Scourgify on them both, and Draco’s next wand movement was to reopen the wound that ran down Harry’s side. 

 

Draco immediately cursed and drew back even while conjuring a mask out of thin air. It was obvious as soon as he got his first unfortunate whiff that this was no ordinary curse scar. The blood was congealed and black. The smell was already of decay even though the wound couldn’t have been more than 5, maybe 6 minutes old at the out. Cursing the whole time, Draco ran a series of diagnostic spells while simultaneously forcing the wound to ooze, hoping to clear the tainted blood from Harry’s system. 

 

 _‘Bloody, buggering bastards!’_ This was going to be far more intensive and invasive that Draco had first thought. First he would need to remove the damaged flesh, all the while pushing Blood Replenishing potions into Harry. He hoped Harry had enough on hand, otherwise he was going to have to find the potions lab that he was confident the house held, and the pray to Salazar that Harry kept it well stocked.

 

Looking at the open wound, Malfoy could only shake his head. _‘Well my friend, your need for stability and a safe place to lay your head may just save your life yet.’_

 

With that, Malfoy got back to the work at hand. Trying to remove yet another dark curse from the body of one Harry James Potter. 

 

*****

 

 

 


	3. Hidden Gems, and Disturbing Revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes everything you didn’t know you wanted has been hiding in plain sight.

 

 

Saying that Severus Snape was a little bit angry, was like saying that the sun was a little bit hot. Or that, The Black Lake at Hogwarts was a little bit deep, and a little bit scary. Or better still, that The Cruciatus Curse will hurt, _but only a little bit_. 

 

Severus was not angry; he was in fact absolutely livid. Furious beyond the measure of it. He could feel has magic roiling just beneath the surface of his skin, and he took deep, quiet breaths in an attempt to calm himself. 

 

He had known something was amiss almost as soon as Draco had missed their meeting. His Godson knew how Severus felt about punctuality. Being late was bad enough, but to miss a meeting entirely, with not so much as an owl of explanation, or a ‘by your leave’? It simply wasn’t done. His annoyance at the boy’s inconsideration had quickly morphed into trepidation when his owls went unanswered, and his colleagues were unwilling, or unable to tell him where either his Godson, or his partner were at the moment. 

 

Having exhausted what should have been his easier avenues, Severus had made his way to the Minister’s Office to speak with his Senior Undersecretary and acting Minister on the off chance that Mrs. Granger-Longbottom might have some information about a last minute assignment that Draco didn’t have a chance to mention. While the relationship of ‘The Golden Trio’ wasn’t as strong as it had been in their Hogwarts days, Snape was aware that Granger-Longbottom and Potter were still on cordial, if not warm and friendly terms if his sources were to be believed. He’d hoped that her position as the Minister’s right hand would provide more information than he had been able to gather, but she was as perplexed as Severus was. 

 

 _“And you say that he missed an appointment with you, and you’ve not heard from Auror Malfoy in several days?”_  

 

Oh no, this could be bad, very, very bad. She had that gleam in her eye that he had often seen while she had been a student, just before some other death defying stunt had their professors wondering what kinds of deals with the devil their parents had made to keep them mostly unscathed. No, no, and no. He did NOT need her interference right now. The last thing that Severus needed was this particular witch taking too much interest in things if he needed to move quickly.  

 

_“Come to think of it, I’ve not seen Auror Potter either…”_

 

Snape could see the wheels turning behind those brilliant, sparkling eyes, and he needed to head her off as quickly and smoothly as possible. For a moment he cursed himself for even bringing it to her attention. Others were easy to distract and redirect. No need to even use Potions and Charms, for the most part. Most Wizards and Witches, when not on their highest guard were no more difficult to control than your average muggle. It was one of the reasons that the Dark Lord had met such little overall resistance when he had tried to seize power.  

 

However, Hermione Granger-Longbottom’s reputation for being “the brightest witch of their age” was well deserved. She was not like the others, and certainly not like most. She was, and continued to be, as Severus hated to admit to anyone but himself, exceptional. In fact, if it weren’t for her ‘Muggle Born’ status, he was certain she would be the next natural choice for Minister. Unfortunately, in spite of all that had changed since the end of the Second Wizarding War, some things seemed too deeply ingrained to change any time soon. Or at least, not in Severus’ natural life span as far as he could imagine. Much to his displeasure, Great Britain was, and continued to be, extremely backwards on several fronts. 

 

Though, he would freely admit that it had brought him, and several others no small amount of pleasure, and amusement when the young, Muggle Born witch had been named Senior Undersecretary to The Minister for Magic. A position that heretofore, had only ever been held by one other person, the much loathed, and not lamented in any polite circles, Dolores Umbridge: Blood racist, extraordinaire. 

 

Umbridge had gone on the run when The Dark Lord had fallen the second time, and had been missing for several months before she had resurfaced. There had been much conjecture about who was responsible for her ‘punishment’ when she had been found one morning outside of Flourish and Blotts, barely clothed in her filthy pink skirt suit and wilted bows, gibbering about ‘Blood Traitors, and Mud Bloods’, ‘Centaurs’ and ‘Ruddy half-giants and Death Eater spies’ and all sorts. It was only when she’d been taken to St. Mungo’s for a through examination that the extent of her injuries were revealed. Every square millimeter of skin, save for her frogish face, had the words “Everything I believed was a lie!” and “There’s no such thing as a pure blood!” adorning it in several different languages. The words, having been etched into place by use of a Blood Quill made Harry Potter suspect number 1. Potter however had been quickly ruled out as he’d been questioned and willingly undergone questioning with Veritaserum as well. Having lost their main suspect to innocence, and faced with a truly daunting list of potential suspects, the DMLE had found her unfit for trial for her war crimes due to insanity, quickly closed the case, and remanded her to the ‘care’ of the psychiatric ward at Azkaban and washed their hands of her. 

 

_“Perhaps I should go to Grimmauld Place and see—“_

 

Severus’ snapped back to the moment, and forced himself to offer something resembling a smile. _“No, Ms. Granger. That won’t be necessary.”_

 

_“Granger-Longbottom”_

 

Severus couldn’t help the exasperated huff _“Yes, Ms. Granger-Longbottom. As I was saying—”_

 

 _“Mrs. Granger-Longbottom… In fact Senior Undersecretary to The Minister for Magic, Mrs. Granger-Longbottom”_ she said in a smiling tone, made even more infuriating by the smile that she was trying, and failing to keep from her lips.

 

_“REALLY! That is entirely too much of a mouthful to say every time I wish to speak to you! And furthermore—“_

 

Severus’ tirade had been cut short when faced with a truly Slytherin worthy smirk. _“Well then, Severus. You shall have to call me, Hermione then. Just as I’ve been requesting you to do for the past several years.”_

 

Even surly Potions Masters knew when to cut their losses. With a put upon sigh, and sketching a quick bow, he gave the formidable witch before him a small, yet sincere smile. _“As I was saying,_ ** _Hermione_** _”_ her beaming smile made Severus lose his train of thought for a moment before he continued _“As I was saying, there’s no reason for you to go to Grimmauld. I know you are busy, what with The Minister being away. I’m sure it’s nothing. But I will check with the Auror department once more, and if there is anything to report to you, I shall.”_ Though they both knew that Severus would only report back if it couldn’t be helped. Grang-Hermione none the less, seemed to appreciate the gesture. 

 

_“Thank you, Severus. I’ll also ask around discreetly as well.”_

 

Severus gave another half-bow and had spun to leave. _“Professor…”_ the tone of her voice brought him up short, and he turned to look at his former student once more as his hand stilled on the door to her office. “ _If there is anything I can do to help. Either of them. Please, do not hesitate to ask it of me.”_

 

From the look on her face, Severus knew that she meant it, about helping both, or either of them if she could. It seemed that perhaps some old animosities had indeed died after the last battle. 

 

*****

 

That was then. And now? Now he was more than ready to throttle someone, starting with the receptionist sitting before him. Severus closed his eyes and willed himself to be calm. He hadn’t survived being a spy for The Light for all those years by allowing his emotions to rabbit off at every little upset. Dumbledore had recruited him before he had even graduated from Hogwarts for that very reason. Hiding in plain sight amongst the vipers. Severus Snape was known for his reserved demeanor, and so was not about to let the rather attractive, yet seemingly vapid young Auror Trainee at the reception desk know just how close to death he was actually waltzing. The only outward signs of Severus’ annoyance, was the continued thrumming of the long, potion stained fingers of his right hand against his left forearm. Severus was fairly certain he was keeping his arms crossed to stop himself from strangling the rather fetching, though completely annoying blonde who was at this very moment sitting and blinking up at him with large, too blue eyes, and doing a rather piss poor job of placating him.

 

“Mr Snape—“

 

“Potions Master, Snape.” He drawled slowly, making sure to enunciate very clearly. “Order of Merlin, 1st Class or did you think I was wearing this gaudy bauble just for show?” It was the same drawl that had sent ice down the spine of countless students, and Snape could barely contain his smirk as he watched the man fidget. Well… he had to allow himself SOME pleasures!

 

“Ummm, yes. So very sorry. Potions Master Snape… as I said, Auror Malfoy is unavailable. If you would like to leave a mes—“

 

At this Snape smiled and the young Auror Trainee abruptly stopped speaking and sat back, finally beginning to sense the danger he was truly in. As the man at the receptionist desk voice ground to an abrupt halt, Snape took the moment to look the young man over before he spoke again. “Auror…”

 

“Donahue. Sir. Auror Trainee Daniel Donahue.”

 

“Auror Trainee, Daniel Donahue, do you know who I am? Seeing as how I just told you, you should have some notion.” 

 

Most would think that Severus enjoyed this kind of thing, but actually, he hated it. He felt that who he was should have no bearings on how he was treated, but he knew that to be a falsehood. Politics would always win out, and politics was either about being someone, or knowing someone who didn’t mind you mentioning that you were friends with their particularly someone. 

 

The Auror nodded briskly, shaking a shaggy head of blonde hair that reminded him of another head of horrible hair that was always causing him some sort of strife. “Yes Sir. Of course I know who you are, Sir.”

 

Severus smiled again, and was impressed when the man in front of him didn’t flinch again. “Well then, Auror Trainee, Daniel Donahue, do you really think it serves any purpose to give me the Auror Department’s bog standard answer when I enquire about the whereabouts of one of your Aurors and MY Godson?”

 

The blush creeping up Trainee Donahue’s face was appealing in ways that Severus really didn’t have time to think about at the moment. Or something he shouldn’t be thinking about, but something he might definitely think about later, in the privacy of his own rooms. “So, Auror Trainee, Daniel Donahue, is there something you wish to tell me?” Severus could see the internal war going on. He didn’t want to press the young man, but he needed to know where to apply pressure before he started squeezing people for answers.

 

“Sir… I’ve been instructed to—“ Severus could tell he wanted to say more, but the way his eyes darted around, he also knew he wouldn’t say anything. Not with all the ears and eyes that could be taking note of the conversation. 

 

“Indeed.” Without another word, Severus pulled his wand and cast a privacy charm so intricate and advanced that only those who knew of them would be able to even detect it. And as it wasn’t yet available to the general Auror force yet, he wasn’t worried about using it. That charm was going no where until Severus wished it to. “Now that we have some privacy, would you like to tell me what in Salazar Slytherin’s name has happened to Auror Malfoy?”

 

Severus had to contain himself as Donahue bit down on his bottom lip, eyes shifting around the office to see if anyone had noticed the charms sliding into place. “Sir, I really shouldn’t.”

 

He had hoped to not have to play this particular card, but if he must, he had a whole deck of them. “You said you knew who I was, Auror Trainee, Donahue. If that’s true, do you know what department I work for?”

 

“Yes Sir.”

 

“And do you know who I report directly to?” The blush creeping up the man’s throat was far too enticing. Yes, Severus would most definitely be replaying this conversation in the privacy of his quarters later. 

 

“Yes Sir.” 

 

“Now, knowing that, do you think I should have to disturb the Minister for Magic, and his new Omega on their vacation because no one will tell me where the *son* of the Minister’s new Omega has disappeared to?” Severus couldn’t hide the feral smirk that spread across his lips momentarily as he watched the young man blanch.

 

The next words were little more than a squeak “The SON? But…”

 

“Yes, I know. All very confusing. Black. Malfoy. Malfoy Black. Narcissa Malfoy, nee Black, Auror Malfoy’s _mother_ reclaimed her family name after her deceased husband’s conviction. The best thing that man ever did for his family was getting himself killed in Azkaban. So tell me, _if you can_. Where is Narcissa Black’s son and heir?”

 

Trainee Donahue shot one more quick look around the room before he spoke in a quiet rush. “All I know, Sir is that 3, no 4 days ago now Auror Malfoy and his partner—“

 

“Potter?” Severus said it as if the very name gave him pain, and a look on his face was as if he was suddenly suffering a case of extreme indigestion.

 

“Yes Sir, Potter.” Donahue rushed on, not noticing Snape’s distress. “Auror Malfoy, and Auror Potter went to do a follow up check on a warehouse we had previously cleared.”

 

“Just the two of them? Why would they do that? A whole warehouse… If Potter—“

 

“No Sir. Not Potter. I’ve heard talk… is seems that Senior Auror Dawlish insisted that they take it. Auror Malfoy said it had already been cleared, and the Senior said that if that was the case, it shouldn’t be an issue for them to double check it.”

 

Severus remained silent. Too thunderstruck to even question the man further, but he didn’t need to. It seemed that Trainee Donahue was all too happy to speak to someone willing to listen. To someone that might be able to do something. Or at least give a flying damn about doing something. 

 

“When they didn’t return or check in, another team was sent to the warehouse. There was a large amount of spell residue left behind, and some nasty curse work as well. And Sir—“ 

 

Severus looked into those worried blue eyes and knew what was coming. But no matter how much he didn’t want to hear it, he had to know. “Yes, Trainee Donahue? Continue.”

 

“Sir… I heard them say there was blood.” As Severus paled further the young man rushed on. “They said some was Auror Malfoy’s, but the largest percent of it was Auror Potter’s.”

 

Snape knew his mask of calm had slipped, but he didn’t care. Right now, he just needed to figure out who to eviscerate first. “Their attackers? The bodies? Were the bodies to examine? I’m sure that Auror Malfoy and Auror Potter weren’t the only ones left bleeding.”

 

“No Sir. There was other blood, but everyone was gone when the Aurors got there, Sir.”

 

“Good.”

 

“Good?” The smile that had returned to Snape’s face was making him nervous. “Sir?”

 

“Yes. Very good. It means there is someone left for me to hunt. And to question.” 

 

“If you need my assistance, Sir.” 

 

Severus knew the young man meant it too. It seemed the day for people offering to throw themselves into the breach to lend assistance. Severus shook his head at the notion of it. “Tell me. Why hasn’t this made it to the papers? I would think that two of your best Aurors injured and missing would make it to The Prophet so that every able-bodied Witch or Wizard could be looking for them, or at the very least, owling in tips if they had seen them.”

 

Daniel dropped his gaze. Severus new the signs and waited, and did his best to wait patiently. Well, as patiently as he could wait in his current state. Thankfully, he didn’t have long to wait. 

 

“I was told that if anyone of importance were to ask… to press the issue beyond the simply ‘they are out of the office, leave a message’ I was to tell them—” The young man took a deep breath, and looked around the office again. Even though he was the first person one saw when you entered the realm of the Aurors, few people paid attention to him unless they directly needed him. “I was to tell them that they were on a deep undercover assignment, and we were unsure when they would return.”

 

Severus knew his smirk was unnerving, but he couldn’t help himself. He was fairly certain the man hadn’t even realized what he’d just said. “So, if that is the case, Auror Trainee Donahue, why are you telling me now? I’m sure a man of your intelligence could have spun some tale to get me to go away. Why the truth?” And Severus knew it to be the truth. He’d had an appointment with Draco, one he’d yet to miss without a good excuse and a rescheduling. To have him miss it, with no word, Severus knew something was amiss. 

 

“I’m telling you, Sir, because it’s not right. I handle scheduling as well. There are no teams assigned to look for them. There are no Aurors on vacation being called back in to look for them. I owe it to them to tell you the truth. Auror Malfoy and Auror Potter have always been polite and respectful towards me. In spite of my unfortunate status.” 

 

Severus knew the answer, or at least guessed it, but wanted to hear the young man say it himself. “And that status is?”

 

“I’m an Omega, Sir.”

 

“And has your treatment been different from the others here?” Severus for his part despised The UK’s views on Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics. Even the Americans, who sometimes tended to be as conservative, if not more so than the UK about some issues, had advanced in their views of the dynamics to the point that they no longer openly embraced the backwards notion that Omegas were automatically servile, or less than. In fact, there were many factions around the globe that were expoundingupon the fact that there may indeed, be more than the standard three dynamics everyone was familiar with, even if they were rare. 

 

“Let’s just say, Sir, that neither Aurors Malfoy, or Potter go out of their way to make me feel unintelligent, or that it would be in my better interest to learn a few chastity spells, and perhaps a castration spell or 12.” 

 

Severus found himself snorting before he could catch himself, and Daniel’s face relaxed for the merest moment before growing serious again. It only took Severus that little glimpse to know that once he found his Godson and his troublesome partner hail and hearty, he would be returning to speak to this young man again. _‘If not before’_ sing-songed the little voice in the back of his thoughts _‘He’s far to pretty to ignore for long’_ . There was something about him that spoke to Severus in a part of himself that had lain dormant for far too long. 

 

Daniel smiled at Severus, but the expression was tight. There was an anger brewing under the surface that Severus could well understand. It would seem that Severus was not the only one adept at wearing masks, and his first impression of the young man before him had been incorrect. 

 

“It’s not right. They are the best of us. It shouldn’t matter that…”

 

“What should’t matter?” Severus needed to know what was being said around the Auror offices. What could POSSIBLY justify not looking for two of their own. 

 

“That… that Malfoy was” Donahue blew out an exasperated sigh before plastering his vapid expression back in place. “I know I wasn’t here for the war, and I know it must have been horrible, war always is, isn’t it. _“Once a Death Eater, always a Death Eater_ ”, and that _“Potter didn’t know his place”_ , and _“wasn’t as useful, and cooperative as they had hoped he would be.”_ Daniel huffed again before continuing. But why take Auror Malfoy on if they don’t trust him, or value him. And they talk about Auror Potter as if he’s some mindless Omega in heat that should just do their bidding.” 

 

“How did you—“

 

“How did I hear?” Severus could only nod mutely. “That’s simple really, Sir. When they figured out that I wasn’t willing to bend over to get off the desk, they stopped paying attention to me. I may be an Omega, but I’m not easy. That seems to be a common misconception about us. Anyway, I’m not worth firing, and it would look bad if I thought to complain to one of the support boards afterwards. But I’m also not worth noticing either. Or shall I say, not worth them worrying about. I find it’s an affliction prevalent amongst certain types of Alphas, and Betas that wish they were Alphas.” 

 

“And what kind of Alpha is that?” A small smile tugged at the corner’s of Severus’ mouth but he didn’t care. This little back and forth was doing a tiny bit to relieve some of the trepidation he’d been feeling for days, and he was going to enjoy this fleeting moment of pleasure. 

 

Donahue’s smirk rivaled that of any Slytherin. “The kind of Alpha that can’t think past satisfying their own knot, Sir.” Daniel blushed as Severus did something very unSnape like. He laughed. I rich laugh that made his black eyes sparkle. Looking around, he noticed that they were beginning to draw attention due to how long Snape had been standing there. Snape lowered the privacy shields so smoothly that they didn’t even ripple when they came down. 

 

“Thank you for your time, Mr. Donahue. Please stop by my office at the end of your day. I’ll have those parchments ready for you then.”

 

“Your office, SIr. Yes Sir.” Trainee Donahue looked at him, but said nothing more.

 

“I’ll make sure that the receptionist for the Unspeakables stays a bit longer to make sure you find your way. But please don’t keep her waiting too long. She’s rather formidable and I would hate to get on her bad side.” With that Snape turned away, robes swirling. He could just hear Daniel as he called after him. 

 

“Yes Sir. I’ll make sure of it, Sir.”

 

The conversation wetted Severus’ curiosity and he wanted to know what more Daniel knew of, but Severus may have missed. His short conversation with Trainee Donahue had highlighted how much Severus was missing by keeping himself sequestered in the catacombs that made up the offices of the Unspeakables. While Severus felt more than knowledgeable about the rest of the Ministry, he had always given the Aurors a wide berth for several reasons, not the least of which being his Godson’s fierce determination to prove that he could make it on his own. Without interference, or favoritism, or undue influence. Severus had tried to respect that. Had respected that. Until now. Now, his Godson, and his problematic partner were missing. Severus’ ‘wands off’ approach to problems in the Auror department ended immediately. 

 

Of course he wasn’t completely in the dark, he _had_ heard rumors over the years. However, when he had asked Draco about it he was met with the Malfoy drawl, and admonished to not worry so much. Furthermore his own people had been zealous about not discussing the depths of the issues in his presence. Everyone in his department knew of at least one reason for his hands off approach to handling the Aurors, and so they made every attempt to not bring issues to his attention that would force him to change his policy.

 

But now? It was apparent the problem was far worse than he could have anticipated. Something needed to be done, and done quickly. While Severus had spent too many years keeping a calm facade in place to fall victim to panicked missteps now he couldn’t close his thoughts down quick enough to stop his breath from hitching, and his pace from quickening just a bit. His own thoughts had turned mutinous and confronted him with the last idea he wanted to face _‘What if you’re already too late to make a difference for those you already swore to protect?’_

 

 

 

 


	4. What Devilment Be This

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco has too much time to think…

Draco stretched and let out a muffled groan, the noise, after so many days of quiet seemed loud to his own ears. Quickly he flicked his eyes over to the bed, but he needn’t  have worried. Or that is to say, worry any more than he already was. It had been four days since they had landed unceremoniously in the living room of one of Harry’s houses, and his partner hadn’t regained consciousness yet. Barely even stirring as Draco had worked on his injuries. Draco had been afraid to use too many pain potions, so he could only _hope_ that the measures he’d taken to ease Harry’s discomfort had been enough. As it were, If not for the occasional facial twitch now and again, Draco wouldn’t have even been sure Potter was still with him in any form beyond his labored breathing.  

 

He had spent the first two days in the house simply tending to Harry’s injuries after casting a few cursory spells at his own minor scrapes and bruises. He didn’t know if Harry had been their intended target, or he had just been damn lucky to escape with as little damage as he had. Considering the spells and hexes that had been flying, he decided to go with damn lucky, and made a mental note to make an offering of thanks at the first opportunity. 

 

Tending their wounds made him appreciate more than than ever the courses of independent study they had undertaken. His lip curled into a self satisfied little smirk as he remembered Weasley’s complaints that more classes would take Harry away from palling about with the ne’er-do-well Gryffindor. Even Granger, who understood Harry’s need to be self sufficient had been hesitant to outright approve him pushing himself to take more classes. They had all been at the Leaky, having a drink to celebrate surviving their first 6 months of accelerated course work. Malfoy, having been made Potter’s training partner had been asked along simply out of curtesy. Granger and the Weasel had both been gobsmacked when he’d accepted the invitation.

 

Potter was attempting to explain why he felt the extra courses were vital for him, for his own sanity and peace of mind. His need to control his surroundings, and his own fate was a tangible thing. At least to Draco it felt like it was. Just as real, and just as imposing as Granger was on her current tear. 

 

 _“Harry. I understand. I DO. But well, first the accelerated academy and now this?”_ Her eyes had shifted over to Draco at that point. Lips pursed with  a hint of lingering distaste and her eyes dancing with something just short of condemnation. _“You can’t do everything by yourself, Harry. Sometimes you have to let others help you too. Let them do their jobs.”_    

 

Potter had fidgeted for a moment, slowly pulling the label off of his Butterbeer before he’d taken a hearty swig and then grinned at his bushy haired best mate. _“That’s just it, ‘Mione. I’m not going to be alone, am I? Draco is taking the classes with me. Isn’t that right, Draco?”_

 

Two sides of the Golden Triangle whipped their heads around so fast to look at him, Malfoy had wondered if _they_ would need medical treatment. It took all of his Malfoy poise to not laugh outright. As it was, he wasn’t sure if they were more shocked at him and Potter agreeing so easily about something, or Potter’s casual use of his given name. Either way, the expression on their faces made the fluttering feeling in his stomach well worth it. 

 

 _“That’s correct, Harry.”_ Draco had to stop looking at his partner then. That was the first time he’d used the man’s first name, and the look of pleasure on his face made Draco feel… oh hell, it just made him FEEL. And seemed like it had been a long time since he had felt anything for anyone, and he knew he certainly shouldn’t be feeling it for his partner in training, Harry sodding Potter of all people!

 

Malfoy had turned in his chair so that he could concentrate on speaking to Granger. _“I’m sure you realize how short handed the Auror department is, Granger. After all, it’s why we were all pushed through an accelerated academy, not just Potter. Once we’re out in the field, assistance might be a long time coming. I’m sure you of all people understand wanting to be prepared for any eventuality. I’ve heard tales about that bottomless bag of yours.”_

 

He knew the argument was sound, and if anyone would _‘get it’_ it would be her. The pretty little blush highlight her cheeks told him she got it expertly. He just had to be patient, and let her admit it to herself. Once she had stopped worrying her bottom lip, the hesitant smile that bloomed was radiant, and Draco could easily understand why the other two wanted to be in her presence. Once she accepted an idea, her enthusiasm was infectious. He could see the exact moment when she started formulating their study plans for them. Thankfully Pott - Harry had warned him about that, so he just smiled, relaxed and waited. 

 

 _“Right! So what kinds of classes are you thinking of taking? And are you going to be doing any Muggle training as well? Might be useful when you can’t do magic.”_ Harry had opened his mouth to reply, but was interrupted by Weasel’s scoffing bray.

 

_“Come on, ‘Mione! The Ferret isn’t going to stick around long enough to use any training he might get. He’s going to leave Harry to get hexed in the back!”_

 

Draco might have taken offense if it had come from anyone else. As it were, there was no love lost between him and The Weasel. Considering the stories he had heard about Weasley deserting his two best mates while searching for something that would help destroy Voldemort, he knew there was no small amount of irony to be found in the current conversation. Harry had warned Draco about this as well… 

 

 _“Don’t say anything. Don’t retaliate, just let Hermione handle it.”_ The smile Potter wore had been positively Slytherin in nature. 

 

 _“Potter. Surely you can’t believe that Granger will-”_ Draco had been highly doubtful that anyone beyond Potter, and perhaps Lovegood would ever come to his defense for any reason, at least, not publicly. 

 

Harry had just smiled that smile that made Draco believe that he too could fight a Dragon and win. _“I do, Malfoy. And she will. Hermione doesn’t hate you anymore. She just doesn’t completely trust you. That takes time. Your apology went a long way towards fixing things with her. So, trust me. Let her handle Ron.”_

 

 _“Trust me.”_ Potter really didn’t even have to ask, did he. Draco trusted him more than anyone else in his life. More so even than his Godfather, if he were to be honest about it. Or at the very least, equally so. 

 

_“Fine Potter. I’ll trust you. But if you’re wrong—!”_

 

Harry had only laughed. _“Don’t worry, I won’t be. But if she pulls out the full name, I suggest throwing up a silencing charm around us, and QUICK!”_

 

Draco chuckled as he remembered the absolutely horrific color Granger’s face had turned before she sucked in lung fulls of air and bellowed _“Ronald Bilius WEASLEY! How DARE YOU!”_

 

They had cast simultaneously. Malfoy had done a triple layered silencing charm that Severus had taught him, and Potter had cast a modified Muffliato so that they could enjoy Hermione tearing a strip off of Ron without worrying about permanent hearing damage. It had actually been most entertaining, and when they had discussed it later, they both agreed that it was the most probable beginning of the end of Hermione and Ron’s on again, off again relationship. 

 

Granger, like Potter wanted to see the good in people. _“And if she were willing to give Malfoy a chance to redeem himself, she saw no reason why Ron, or anyone else should be allowed to make that more difficult”._

 

After that, Hermione had become one of his staunchest supporters, turning him into a pet project of sorts. It galled the muggle born witch to no end that _“British Wizarding Society was simply, absolutely, and without a doubt arse backwards on so many different issues!”_ She was often known to waggle her fingers, and admonish them to _“Learn from the Colonies so as to not make the same mistakes!”,_ for all the good it did. Draco and Harry were both concerned that she was going to pull all of her bushy brown hair out in frustration over anti pureblood sentiments, and Alpha/Beta/Omega, and the marginalization of Witches, and Magical Creatures alike. 

 

In fact, it was with Hermione’s insistence, and study help that they were able to take and complete as many extra courses as they had. Particularly in the beginning when all eyes were on them, and not all of the attention was benevolent, or benign. The course work outside of the UK being of particular interest to her because as she put it “Well, at least you know THEY will be in the current century!” 

 

Granger was formidable, and never more so than when she put her mind to a task, and her current task was to see them all succeed in their chosen paths. To Granger, it would be a true sign that the war was over, and hadn’t been fought for nothing if they could all move forward, and not be lost to old hatreds. Almost overnight house rivalries had been banished. Replaced with a common cause. The need to succeed and thrive in the brave new world they were all trying to forge, together.  Fairly quickly a study group had formed around her and both Draco and Harry had offered their homes as places they could meet. 

 

Most of the 8th years, and several of the 7th years that could get permission had joined them for these study sessions. Anyone with a desire to learn was welcomed, and various groupings that wouldn’t have been possible before were forming right before their eyes. Parkinson and Finnegan were off in a corner quizzing one another. Lovegood was in a knot of several Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs, and other than the occasional reference to creatures only she, and a select few others knew about, it was easy to see how she had been sorted into Ravenclaw. She was brilliant. Barmy. But brilliant. Zabini was having a heated debate with Longbottom about something that Granger had tossed herself into the middle of. Even Goyle found himself welcomed once he’d apologized for being a complete and utter prick. 

 

The two youngest Weasleys had joined, though only Ginevra ended up attending regularly. Ronald had tried, but had given up rather quickly when he realized that studying came before snack breaks, and rounds of wizard chess. His laziness about studying and his entitlement attitude had been one more thing that had driven a wedge between him and Granger. 

 

Ronald couldn’t seem to fathom why he or most of them should have to work so hard anyway _“Seeing as how we’re war heroes and all, yeah. That should come with some perks? I mean, our side won, right.”_   And the Weasel being himself hadn’t even noticed the uncomfortable silence in the room, and the daggers being shot at him by Granger. Worse yet, he didn’t even bother to notice how uncomfortable he was making his best mate. _“I mean. I’m sure if Harry said the right things to the right people, WHAM. We could all breeze right through, easy peasy. Well, most of us. Not some of you lot, you still have to pay your dues._ _Slytherin bastards._ _”_  

 

Harry had looked sick, and Granger had looked murderous. Even his own sister had looked mortified. When the next several study dates had been planned, everyone conveniently forgot to tell the youngest Weasley boy when and where they would be held. Seeing as how he wasn’t really interested the subject only came up now and again when they would meet at the Leaky for a pint, and a plate of chips. And not that he would do anything more about it than complain how _“his friends had deserted him to roll around with a bunch of snakes”._  

 

At this point they had both gotten so used to Hermione and Ron’s blinding rows that most of the time they were silently casting their charms even as they were placing orders with the house elves. While they found Hermione taking Ron to task amusing, in a completely evil way, they felt it was best to protect their friend’s reputation by keeping the fights amongst themselves. And yes, at this point, Draco did consider Hermione, and many of the study group friends, or the closest approximation he had to one since before The Dark Lord had returned to make everyone’s life miserable. 

 

They had supported one another, and gotten through the academy with top marks, even Draco, much to the annoyance of more than a few people. Though their original pairing had been a punishment, and they had debated who was being punished until they realized it was both of them, they opted to stay together as Auror partners after graduation. Which was good since there were few that wanted to work with Malfoy, and fewer he trusted to have his back, and Potter had refused to even consider another parter. 

 

That had been almost 5 years ago now. And after numerous arrests, and countless celebratory pints, Draco considered the man hovering 5 centimeters above the bed the best friend he’d ever had. 

 

Stretching again Draco stood and moved to Harry’s side. Spelling away the bandages he examined the wound, pleased that what little fluid there was to see was running clear. If it continued this way, he knew that he would be able to spell it complete in a day or two, and perhaps apply some Dittany to minimize, if not hopefully avoid scarring. 

 

A few flicks of his wand allowed him to spell nourishment into Potter, as well as take care of his unconscious partner’s bodily functions. He then refreshed the Levitation and Lightening charms that allowed him to turn Potter easily, insuring that he didn’t end up with bruises and sores from laying in the same position for days on end. 

 

It had taken 48 hours of intensive intervention, but Draco had finally gotten ahead of the unknown curse. When he’d examined Harry’s wound three times in a row, and found no signs of further decay either by sight, or by smell it had taken all of his control not to do a little jig. He had every intention of harassing his partner remorselessly about how fucking STELLAR he was as a healer, just as soon as woke up. He had to wake up. Draco had no desire to have poured all of his skills into removing that damn curse just to insure that Harry would be an attractive vegetable. 

 

Another stretch and he smiled as his back gave a satisfying CRACK. He rolled his shoulders several times, feeling them loosen and sighed in relief as a knot that has been sitting between his shoulder blades shifted. While the chaise in the room was comfortable enough to sleep on, it was no substitute for a bed, and after two days of no sleep, and two days of minimal sleep, Draco was feeling the worse for ware. Casting a quick Tempus charm confirmed what his stomach, and the little bit of light making its way past the shudders was already telling him, that it was nearly time for lunch. After another quick check of the wound, a Warming Charm, and several Monitoring Charms, Draco decided that he would head down to the kitchen and get something to eat. I flick of his wrist raised the sheets up Harry’s torso, effectively tucking him in. 

 

“Right. Don’t go anywhere, I’ll be right back.” Draco sighed, and shook his head as he headed for the door. _‘Don’t know why I said that, but I think I might have fainted if you’d answered.’_ As Draco closed the door behind him he spoke into the air. “I’d very much like chicken sandwiches and some pumpkin juice for lunch” a brief pause and a “Thank you.” These were Potter’s elves, after all. He probably paid them wages, and sent them on vacation.

 

As he made his way to the kitchen, Draco remembered the first time that Draco had heard the plates rattling on the counter. He’d made his way into the room with his wand drawn, and curse dancing on the tip of his tongue. There was no one there, only a steaming plate of food that had been left under a warming charm.  After checking for spells, hexes, or potions and finding none, he had dived into the excellent plate of Spaghetti Bolognese and garlic bread with gusto. All subsequent meals had been the same. He never saw who delivered them, and Draco could only assume that it was of Potter’s house elves. He tried calling them, but to no avail. After the 2nd or 3rd time he had stopped trying, imagining the little creatures punishing themselves for not responding, even though they must have some directive not to. 

 

He had wanted for nothing in regards to meals. Draco had been sitting watching Potter when he’d mumbled that he could really do with a good strong cup of coffee and some biscuits. It had been only moments before a tray with coffee, cream, and several different biscuits had popped into existence on the side of the chaise furthest away from the bed. He had simply shook his head and smiled, wondering what kind of thought process would Harry have been going through to have his house elves stay invisible if he were incapacitated.  

 

When he had begun to run low on potions, he had simply asked that the cabinet be restocked, stating that it would be easier than him brewing, and he didn’t wish to leave Harry unattended for that long. The soft tinkling of the vials taking their place behind the closed cupboard door let him know the request had been met. When he mused about what was going on outside their doors, a copy of The Quibbler, and The Daily Prophet had shown up along side the next meal plates. 

 

Their clothes had been cleaned and mended, meals made, and potions restocked all without Draco seeing any of it being done. He was itching for Harry to wake so he could ask him about the invisible help.

 

As he entered the kitchen he smiled at the plate piled high with sandwiches, a carafe of pumpkin juice, and several different plates of crisps with little id tags in front of each announcing the flavors. _‘Prawn? Ye GODS! That must be a Harry thing!’_ Draco took several sandwiches and sat by the window where bits of light were making their way in through the shutters. He had already tried the doors and windows, and found them to be sealed, so now, he simply enjoyed the light where he could find it. While the house was done in mostly light, neutral tones, it was still a bit claustrophobic to not be able to leave when he wanted to. 

 

No matter. He planned to read the latest issue of The Prophet that had been left, and then ask his invisible helpers if they could spell a window to mimic the outside. If he couldn’t go out, maybe they could bring the outside in, much like the enchanted ceiling at Hogwarts. 

 

Draco flipped idly through the paper as he ate. His gaze lingered over a picture of his mother, resplendent in jeweled purple robes that she wouldn’t have given a thought to wearing before, but now? It was as if all the color and joy that had been bled from her life was being restored to her by the man standing behind her. One hand resting lovingly, but proprietarily on one shoulder. The look on her face told him that she didn’t know that something was amiss, and for that he was actually glad. No one could do anything of them at the moment, not with the house on lock down, and she of all people in Draco’s life deserved to have a bit of happiness. As far as he was concerned, she’d already had enough worry for several lifetimes. Besides, it amused him to no end to see his mother out and about with her new Alpha, The Minister for Magic of all people and from the looks of it, having a bloody good time of it.

 

Narcissa Black was still a beautiful woman, and a strong and capable witch, but it would have never once crossed his mind that such a Light Wizard would even consider bedding his mother, let alone courting, wooing and winning her favor. There were some that felt that his dead father’s sins were his mother’s as well. Though anyone who knew how the average pureblood marriage worked, would know that Narcissa had little to no choice but to go along with whatever scheme Lucius had concocted, that is if she wished to continue seeing her son, or drawing breath.  

 

There had been some noise in pure blood circles about a pure blood witch, even one with a tainted past, being with, well, a NON pure blood, in their estimation. Once Granger had gotten wind of these nay-sayings, she had an absolute field day educating pure bloods on their history. As it turned out, The Minister could trace his family back to their pure blood and ROYAL beginnings. As it turned out, his first name was a homage to his lineage and his last name was simply _“Because my ancestors had very sick, and twisted senses of humor. When left to choose their own name, they picked a reminder of how they had gotten to Merry Old England to begin with.”_

 

Few pure bloods wished to be reminded that their blood wasn’t as pure as they claimed, nor did they wish to be reminded that Witches and Wizards throughout time had always blended, bedded and bred with the strongest or most desirable amongst them, regardless of blood, and in many cases, regardless of whether or not the other was considered human, by wizarding standard. If the truth were to be told, there wasn’t a wizard alive that didn’t have at least some ‘other’ in the family bloodline. Vampires, Fae, Veela, Goblins, Dryads, Giants, and many more had all contributed to the gene pool of magical society. They were there, and their heritage was just waiting for the most opportune moment to show itself. Whether the witch or wizard getting the unexpected visit from that heritage thought it was opportune was another matter entirely. 

 

Draco flipped through the paper, rolling his eyes at one thing, and snorting at something else. ‘ _Honestly, The Prophet isn’t fit to line a Crup’s cage.’_ Flipping to the Quiditch scores he had just settle in to read when a clanging began to sound in his head. The last time he had heard such a racket was when he had tried to use one of Harry’s muggle contraptions to make popping corn. 

 

_‘HARRY!’_

 

Draco shot out of his chair so fast that it clattered to the floor. In his haste to get to his partner, he didn’t even notice the little smiling elf that popped into the kitchen to put the chair to rights, and store the rest of his sandwiches for later. 

 


	5. What's that squeaking?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A better trap, for an inferior rat.

Severus sat at his desk. A stack of personnel folders at his right hand, one in particular open in front of him, and a 3/4 full tumbler of Scotch off to his left hand. The very expensive bottle had been a _“I’ve never been happier to be wrong, please forgive me gift”_ from McGonagall. 

 

Yes, he was still at the sodding Ministry, but he DARED anyone to tell him he hadn’t earned that sodding glass of Scotch. Hopefully the Scotch was far more mellow than he was feeling. At 10 years older than him, he certainly hoped that at least one of them had mellowed and he knew it wasn’t him, not by a far measure. Though he was fairly certain that the Ardbeg Provenance would be easier to digest than some of the information he’d gathered so far that day. 

 

He’d spent the morning talking to various people in the Auror department, moved on to Hermione (Salazar THAT was going to take some getting used to), had then moved on to Trainee Donahue (and he’d be VERY happy to get used to THAT), and then proceeded to bang his head into a proverbial wall by trying to talk to Dawlish. He had always known the man to be a coward, and incredibly thick headed, despite his ‘book smarts’ as he’d heard it referred to.  

 

As he left the reception area in the Auror department, Snape’s face had bore a tight lipped smile, that he knew didn’t reach his eyes. He was looking for the first person on his list that may need to be eviscerated. He wasn’t worried about it though. All he needed to do was look for the largest piece of cheese, it was the place to find all of the biggest rats. In this case, the particularly tasty cheese would come in the form of some of the Auror Trainees. Snape headed down the corridor, and past the showers heading for the training  rooms. Snape knew that Donahue couldn’t be the only Omega feeling the pressure to ‘go along to get along’ from a certain type of Alpha, and the first person on his list was EXACTLY that type of Alpha.  He had no doubt which rat in particular’s attention he needed to capture, and he already had the perfect rat trap with him. 

 

Snape aimed a quick shining and buffing spell at his Order of Merlin, 1st Class before pushing the doors open and strolling into the training room. It took less than a moment to notice what was going on. The Alphas and Betas had separated themselves, with the Omegas trying to either fend off unwanted attention or sulking because they weren’t being included in the lesson being given to the Alphas and the Betas. Considering that it was an Auror training class, Snape was appalled. It was a stark reminder that though they wore the uniform, they were not full Aurors, and it explained why so many of them ended up riding a desk, or getting hurt on the rare occasion they were sent out to do field work.

 

_“They’re just not suited to such things, Snape. They’re happier this way.”_ It had galled him then, to hear adult witches and wizards spoken of as if they were house elves, and even now, the bile rose in his throat at the memory of it. It was one of the reasons he had retreated to his offices. Severus brooked no such foolishness in his own department. Everyone was trained fully. He wasn’t about to have one of his people hurt in the field simply because some fool felt their dynamic made them less capable of learning, or performing their duties. 

 

Turning so that his medal caught the light in the room and positively SHONE, he caught the attention of the rat he wanted at the moment.

 

_“Dawlish. A word, if you please.”_

 

_“Two words actually. ‘Go Away’.”_

 

A nervous laughter suffused the room, but Snape acted as if he hadn’t heard. _“Hmmm, that was 5 words actually. May explain why you are only ’Senior’ Auror, and not Head.”_ The energy in the room changed so fast it was likely to give everyone broom lash. No one dared to speak to Senior Auror Dawlish that way in front of the recruits, until now at least. _“I have need to speak to you, and as head of—“_ This was one of those times that Severus did enjoy tossing his title around. Very much so in fact. 

 

_“Yes, FINE!” “Recruits, continue practicing,”_ Severus snorted, and Dawlish glared. _“This won’t take long.”_

 

_“Shorter still if I don’t trouble you to do maths. Senior Auror Dawlish, if you please”._ Snape motioned to the door, and waited until Dawlish had slammed by him before following him into the hall, and choosing to ignore the shoulder check the other man had thrown at him. Severus knew to pick his battles, and this wasn’t one of them. 

 

The door had barely closed before Dawlish had spun to confront him. _“What’s the fucking meaning of this, Snape? I don’t appreciate you trying to humiliate me in front of the trainees. It’s hard enough getting them to—”_

 

Severus had refrained from sharing any number of scathing replies with Dawlish. After all, it’s not as if the man needed his help to make a fool of himself. But baiting John Dawlish was not why he was there, that could come later, right now he needed information. Severus held up a placating hand and nodded at his fellow Ministry employee. _“I came here, because I would like to know where Auror Malfoy, and his partner, Auror Potter are.”_

 

If he were less astute, Severus might have missed the look of disgust that flitted across Dawlish’s face. However he wasn’t, and he hadn’t. He filed the information away for later, and simply stood looking at the Senior Auror and waiting for an answer. Severus had no intentions of leaving without one, see really, he had all afternoon if need be. 

 

Dawlish’s face took on an ugly scowl before deigned to reply. _“What’s wrong, Snape? Misplace your Death Eater? Why are you bothering me with this anyway?”_

 

Severus’ jaw had tightened and he counted to 10, in Latin before addressing Dawlish. “First order of business. Draco Malfoy is not now, or has he ever been a Death Eater. Second order of business. I’m asking you because you’re their supervisor. You SHOULD know where you two best Aurors are.”

 

Severus watched the man in front of him square his shoulders, and stand up a little taller. He was spoiling for a fight, and if that is what it took to get the information he needed, Severus would give it to him. 

 

Dawlish sneered, and Snape scoffed internally _‘amateur’ ._ “Of course YOU would say he was no Death Eater, Death Eater! It still galls me that you managed to fool them all, but I know better.”

 

_“You know… seriously?!?”_ Severus was truly gobsmacked. _“So pensive memories, being interrogated by the full Wizengamot under Veritaserum multiple times, Having Dumbledore’s portrait, and Harry Potter speak on my behalf, being acquitted, and being awarded 3 orders of Merlin are all tom foolery in your opinion? That all means nothing?”_ Snape was having a hard time believing that this was what Dawlish actually believed. 

 

Snape watched the man’s jaw work for several seconds before he finally gritted out _“I don’t know how you did it, but it’s galling to have a former Death Eater, and Death Eater SPAWN parading around here like they belong. Like YOU belong.”_

 

Severus felt a massive pounding behind his eyes, and couldn’t help but pinch the bridge of his nose in exasperation. _“I was a Death Eater, you ignorant PRAT because that was the_ ** _PART_** _Albus Dumbledore required I play! FURTHERMORE as I’ve already said, Draco Malfoy is NOT a Death Eater, and never has been.”_ It was taking all of Severus’ considerable control to not throttle the man where he stood.

 

_“Death Eater. Death Eater sympathizer. Death Eater in training. Baby Death Eater. It’s all the bloody same! Even if he wasn’t marked, he let Death Eaters into Hogwarts and was forgiven for it! And now he’s here sullying the Aurors.”_

 

“ _And_ ** _you_** _cursed an elderly witch into a WALL. She was in hospital for a month, and took more than three times that to recover and you were forgiven for THAT._ ” Snape clinched his teeth together to keep from saying _‘and I STILL plan on making you pay for THAT.’_ Minerva McGonagall was the closest thing to a mother that he had and he had no intention of letting that attack go without retribution but now was not the time.

 

Dawlish looked ready to explode. _“I was doing my sodding JOB!”_

 

_“And Draco Malfoy was trying to save the life of his parents! If that was good enough for the Wizengamot, I see no reason it isn’t good enough for you, Auror Dawlish! And you were rather ‘over enthusiastic’ about doing your job, truth be told, Auror Dawlish.”_

 

Snape could see Dawlish’s jaw working. He was surprised to not hear his teeth actually cracking with the tension of it. _“You can fool some of them, Snape. But not all of us. Dumbledore’s memories could have been modified, and Potter is damaged. The fact that his word has any weight is infuriating. Now, if there’s anything else I can inform you of—”_

 

Severus stepped forward into the Auror’s space. _“You can inform me of where Auror Malfoy and his partner are.”_

 

A nasty sneer spread across Dawlish’s face. _“I don’t know where the Death Eater and the Minister’s pet are. I was told they were on an undercover assignment. Perhaps you should check with reception then. Perhaps they know when they’ll be back.”_

 

_“You’re their supervisor, Dawlish. YOU should know when they’ll be back. And I’ve spoken to the person at reception. Now I’m speaking to you.”_

 

The Auror mumbled a few disparaging remarks about _“useless Omegas”_ before addressing Snape again. _“Well then. If you’ve already spoken to reception, then there is nothing more for us to talk about. Whatever they had to say is the official department reply.”_  

 

Severus sighed. _“And unofficially?”_

 

The smile that Dawlish gave him would have cowed lesser men. Severus simply raised an eyebrow and waited. _“Unofficially. I don’t actually care where the failed Death Eater, and the ’Saviour’ are. If they aren’t here, they aren’t making my life more difficult. I actually don’t care if they return or not.”_  

 

Snape said nothing. He simply slipped past Dawlish’s useless defenses and reached into his mind. Not since the days of the Dark Lord had he found himself inside something so ugly and chaotic. He moved as quickly and as cleanly as he could. There was fear, and resentment. There were thoughts of persecution and a feeling of being undervalued. And covering all of it was raw, bone deep anger and hatred. Snape was even more disturbed when he realized how many people it was aimed at. Certainly not just his Godson, or even Potter, though they did hold pride of place in the madness. He didn’t find any direct answers to the questions he had, but he did see enough to know that Dawlish was involved somehow with their disappearance. Before he pulled out, he took a quick look at the memory of the night that Dawlish was at Hogwarts to arrest Hagrid. The look on his face as he brought his wand to bear on Minerva told him what he already suspected. There was no remorse there. No regret. Just as Severus would have none when the time came. 

 

As he slipped back out, Dawlish growled and shook his head. _“What did you just do, you bastard!?!? I didn’t give you permission to invade my mind!”_

 

For the first time since starting the conversation, Severus smiled. _“Oh please. I did not invade your mind. You’re an open book, Dawlish. Besides, I’m a ‘Death Eater’ remember? I don’t ask for permission. I simply take what I want. Good day to you, Auror Dawlish.”_

 

He had already spun on his heels to return to his office, when Dawlish’s voice rang out in the corridor. _“Don’t you dare turn your back on me, you bastard!”_ Severus didn’t hear the spell coming, but he knew it would be. The reflecting shield he threw up did its job as he heard a shriek, and then a thud. He didn’t even bother slowing his steps. As far as he was concerned, anyone that would throw a curse at his retreating back wasn’t worthy of him even bothering to see if they had survived. 

 

With what little Severus had seen, he knew that Dawlish wasn’t acting alone. He could make many assumptions, but he would have to dig deeper to have proof and not just educated guesses. If Dawlish hadn’t managed to murder himself, Severus would make sure to spend more time in that wild rabbit warren that was John Dawlish’s mind. If he had managed to kill himself, Snape’s last thought about the man as he reached the lifts was that _‘he hoped his after life was a restless and a painful one’._  

 

*****

 

And _that_ was how Severus Snape found himself sitting at his desk with a most excellent, yet untouched tumbler of Scotch awaiting his attention. The amber color was enchanting and Severus lifted the glass and gently swirled the contents, humming as it clung to the sides before pooling together again. 

 

Severus took a sip and savored the warmth as he swallowed. It was indeed and excellent Scotch, and there was none of the ripping burn that was common with cheaper malts. Closing his eyes for a moment, he hummed, savoring the complex flavors. There was apple, and vanilla. A bit of coco and a lot of peat. There was also a hint of tobacco and something else that sat on the back of his tongue and reminded him of the taste of good sex. It was overall a fantastic Scotch and definitely meant he could forgive Minerva. Particularly if she got him a bottle for his birthday as she had promised. 

 

He had just returned the tumbler to the blotter on his desk when there was a rapping at his office door before it was pushed open and his secretary stuck her head around the edge. One manicured eyebrow went up, but that was all the commentary to be had about her boss, and the fact that he was drinking at his desk. “Sir. There’s an Auror Trainee Donahue here to see you. Shall have him come back?” 

 

_“_ No, Send him in. And that will be all for the day, Ms. Jenkins. I’ll lock up here.”

 

If the woman thought there was anything untoward going on, she didn’t make mention of it in either word or action. She simply offered Severus a quick nod. “As you wish, Sir. I’ll show him in, and take my leave. I’ll see you in the morning.”

 

“Indeed. And, thank you, Ms. Jenkins.”

 

She shot Severus’ desk one more quick look and then a faint smile played across her lips. She didn’t know the details of the matter, but something had obviously shaken her normally stoic boss. “My pleasure, Sir. I’ll show him in.” 

 

It was only a moment before Daniel Donahue was in his office, light blue trainee robes clinging to him in ways that Severus found pleasingly distracting. Donahue was actually taller than he had realized, coming up just a centimeter or two shorter than Severus himself. The man was all broad shoulders and graceful movements and when he looked at Snape’s desk and spied the tumbler the smile on face went right up to his eyes and danced a merry jig. 

 

Daniel inclined his head towards the glass and smiled a bit wider. “Having a rough day, Sir?”

 

Motioning to the chair in front of his desk, Severus had the man sit before he replied “You have no idea, Mr. Donahue.”

 

The look Severus got in return was mischievous. “Oh, but I do Sir. I was the one on duty today to attend to the monitoring charms in the hallways to and from the training rooms.” Severus said nothing but Donahue had his full attention. “It seems there have been some altercations in the hallways, so recording charms have been set up around various ‘hot spots’. And there have been a few incidents where those recordings mysteriously vanished.” Daniel paused and smiled.

 

Severus looked the young man over, seeing him in a new light. He’d no doubt that if he had been schooled here, he might well have been sorted into Slytherin, or at the very least, Ravenclaw. The man before him was shrewd. 

 

“Yes, Mr. Donahue. Do continue. I have a feeling there is something more you wish to say.”

 

“Well Sir, it’s just after the last incident of _‘magical interference’_ I’ve started making my own copies before ending my shift. I also tend to make several copies, seeing as how one never knows when and where _‘magical interference’_ might happen.” 

 

Severus took in the blonde man who was now relaxing back in the chair. Confident, and sharp as a tack, he was the antithesis of what many viewed Omegas to be. And when Daniel Donahue smiled at him like the Kneazle that found the stash of cream, Severus couldn’t help but smile back.  

 

Severus reached for the tumbler and took a small sip before clearing his throat “Where are my manners. Would you care to join me?” Severus lifted the tumbler, tipping it in Donahue’s direction  “It is after hours for you at least.” Though he was loathe to share, it would be unseemly to not at least offer even if the young man declined, out of proprieties sake.

 

To his surprise, he didn’t decline “Thank you, Sir. Don’t mind if I do.” Severus’ next surprise came in suddenly finding himself with a lap full of blonde. Donahue had moved around the desk before the tumbler had even resettled itself fully. The contents still doing a gentle wave as Daniel pushed Severus back, chair and all and seated himself before leaning in, and running his tongue along the seam of Severus’ mouth. 

 

When Severus moaned Daniel took it as the invitation is was and slid his tongue in further. His questing was rewarded with strong hands on his hips, steadying him as he rocked gently in place. They kissed for several long moments, and when he finally pulled back, he was pleased to see Snape’s lips damp and kiss swollen. Licking his own lips he smiled as he stood up again. 

 

“A most excellent whisky, Sir. Ardbeg or Dalmore?” Without waiting for a reply he took up Severus’ glass and took a measured sip. His eyes fluttered closed and he stood there for a moment before his adams apple worked slowly as he swallowed. 

 

Severus watched the movement, and it took great effort to stay in his chair and not return the favor of a tasting. 

 

When Daniel’s eyes once again opened, his smile was broad as he looked down at Severus. “An Ardbeg. Definitely. If that was a gift, someone cares about you very much, Sir.” Without another word he regained his seat and sat looking at Snape as if he hadn’t just been in his lap moments before. 

 

Without a word, Severus summoned another glass and poured two measures before sliding the glass across the desk. He watched as Donahue took the glass. His movements smooth and measured. Bringing the glass to his nose, the man inhaled slightly, before taking a sip, obviously savoring the taste. Severus’ trousers grew tight as the tip of a tongue darted out to trace lips that were still pink and a bit kiss swollen. 

 

“Thank you for sharing this, Sir. It’s exceptional.”

 

When Snape looked he saw no guile in those blue eyes, just simple gratitude. A tip of his head was his silent reply. They sat in companionable silence, savoring their drinks. It was a good while before Severus spoke again. “So, Mr. Donahue. What is the M for?”

 

Severus was willing to admit, at least to himself that the color suffusing the man’s throat and rapidly heading to his cheeks was more intoxicating than the Scotch they were sharing. “Excuse me, Sir?” His was strong, and bore no resemblance to the embarrassment the blush hinted at.

 

Snape tapped the folder on his desk with one long, potion stained finger before reading aloud. “M. Daniel Donahue. Auror Trainee. Duel Citizenship, American and British.” he paused, “So, I’m wondering, what is the M for?”

 

Daniel took another sip of his Scottish courage. “Well Sir, since you were kind enough to share with me, I will return the favor. My father is Irish and Russian. My first name is homage to my Russian grandmother’s father. I usually only use it with family, and those I’m intimate with.”  A soft smile played across his lips then, and Severus wanted nothing more in that moment than to be one of the people that Daniel was intimate with. 

 

He wanted to be the only person he was intimate with, truth be told. And as unbecoming as jealousy was, he couldn’t ignore the tight knot in his gut at the thought of others who’d had the pleasure of tasting those lips. Of caressing the strong frame that had been so briefly on his lap. Of running their fingers through that hair, and seeing if it was as soft as it looked. 

 

Severus gave himself a mental shake. It wouldn’t due to slip into some kind of caveman like Alpha headspace. The man had already made it very clear what he thought of THAT kind of behavior, though Severus was having a hard time not just tossing him across his desk and claiming him on the spot. He looked at the man sitting across from him and he knew. He wanted this man. As a colleague and a lover. Not since Lily had he wanted like this. Only this time, there was the potential for so much more. 

 

“It stands for Misha. Sir.” 

 

The sound of the ‘Sir’ dripping from those soft lips made his cock twitch again. “Misha.” Severus couldn’t help but smirk when he noticed the blondes shiver as he said his name. “Tell me Misha. What are you plans for the future?”

 

“Well, Sir…”

 

Severus sat back and listened as the man outlined his plans for the future, and as they unfolded before him, he knew that this might just be the start of a beautiful friendship, and something so much more. 

 


	6. I’ve been dreaming of… wait, what?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Why did Harry make him watch that movie? Oh yeah, that’s why.

‘Harry!’

 

Draco took off out of the kitchen as if someone had just released the snitch! He took the stairs at a dead run, and cursed as his stockinged feet tried to shoot out from underneath him. _‘Buggering FUCK!’_ He was grateful for his quick reflexes. That alone allowed him to grab the banister, and pitch himself forward, and not end up going arse over tea kettle backwards back down the stairs. ‘ _Wouldn’t that be just the thing! Then who would help them? The invisible house fairies? Not bloody likely!’_  

 

He skidded on the area rug as he headed down the hallway at full tilt, and had to wonder if that were another of Harry’s traps, or just his own dumb luck. No matter, no time to think about it now. As it were, he was having a difficult time of thinking of anything but the noise going off in his head. The monitoring charm was designed to go up in volume to insure that it wasn’t ignored. For the briefest of moments Draco was concerned that he may have just ripped the door off of its hinges in his haste to get to Harry. That concern was short lived as two things happened simultaneously. First, that klaxon in his head stopped as he laid eyes on Harry, and the sudden silence was almost as disturbing as the noise has been, and second, Draco realized that Harry ‘Sodding’ Potter was not where he had left him!

 

When Draco had gone down to have lunch, he had left Harry ‘Sodding’ Potter covered for modesty’s sake up to his collar bones, and floating gently about 5 centimeters above the bed. High enough that he didn’t need to worry about sores, and such, but low enough that if he fell, he would likely not do himself an injury. 

 

But now? NOW!! Harry ‘Sodding’ Potter was very much NOT where Draco had left him. Oh NO! Harry ‘Sodding’ Potter was now writhing and arching at least a good 50 or more centimeters off the bed, and doing a rather excellent impression of the girl in that muggle horror movie he’d made Draco watch. You know the one! The one where she climbs the wall, and her head spins around before she spits out something that reminded Draco of his mother’s first attempt at cooking for herself. Yeah. THAT movie! And so what if Draco had squealed like a girl, and hidden behind his platinum blonde fringe! That was TERRIFYING what with that whole head spinning and spitting yucky stuff! I mean REALLY Inferi don’t even do that! They don’t, do they? Oh Salazar, say they don’t!

 

And if Draco had enjoyed it when Harry threw his arm around his shoulders and pulled him close, promising to keep him safe, even while laughing at him about his shrieking, well that was just the way it was. While he no longer despised Muggles, he still found them to be mad things at times. After all, who would volunteer to watch the Inferi’s ugly kid sister while sitting in the dark?!?

 

But now here was Harry ‘Sodding’ Potter doing a very good impression of that Muggle horror movie girl. And most of the covers Draco had left on him  had fallen off, and were pooled on the bed on the floor. The only bit of bedding remaining in place was a white sheet that had gone translucent with Harry’s sweat and was clinging precariously to his rather fit hip bones, and Sweet Merlin, every time he arched it worked it’s way down just that much lower. 

 

If you asked Draco why he had left Potter naked, he would have said that it was easier than spelling his clothes on and off, and that was true. There was no chance of a waist band, or seams irritating his wounds, and Draco had cast additional softening charms on the sheets and other linens to make them as irritation free as possible. 

 

If having Potter naked meant that Draco got a chance to admire the extremely fit, and entirely otherwise off limits body of his partner, well, then that was just a bit of a silver lining amongst the darkness of their attack, and the last several days, now wasn’t it. _‘Take your small pleasures where you may find them, Draco’_   his mother would always say, and so, he did.

 

Draco would have much preferred to drink his fill under more positive circumstances. However being able to look unencumbered by the fear of being caught out, versus the oft stolen glances in the Auror changing rooms was a temptation too great for Malfoy to pass up. If he were being honest with himself he would have loved to be able to laze about in bed, caressing his partner with eyes, and lips and tongue and…

 

As it were, he was not willing to risk the friendship they had chiseled out from the granite hard animosity that had been their youth. Tossed together as partners, they had decided to give a two figure salute to those that had wished to see one, or both of them wash out of the program. It had been shock of gigantic proportions to find that not everyone worshipped at the alter of the ‘Almighty Potter’. In fact, Malfoy had found the extremes to which Potter was either reviled or revered to be rather staggering. It was if the average Witch or Wizard had no medium setting. They either loved him, and wanted to carry the next line of little Potters for him, or they found him to be an arrogant arsehole unworthy of the praise that others heaped on him. Draco knew he had spent a lot of time in the latter camp himself, and to say he was uncomfortable with having THAT particular mirror shoved in his face… well. 

 

Once they had decided to band together to give the powers that be the old _’high hard one’_ , Draco found the man to be witty, intelligent, and sarcastic on a subtle level that rivaled his and Snape’s senses of humor. Potter was actually extremely loyal once he accepted that Draco was serious about making their friendship a real go, and if the fact that Draco had found him to be a bit of alright since oh, 3rd year, yeah… it didn’t hurt to have the ‘specky git’ around to look at every day, and think about most nights.

 

And now? Now Draco stood mesmerized. Watching as Harry’s body writhed and contorted. Honestly, if it weren’t for the freakish floating WELL above where Draco had left him, the movements would be extremely sensual. But since he was NOT where Draco had left it, it was all a bit too disturbing. 

 

Draco quickly cast several diagnostics, sighing with relief when it showed that while Harry had a fever, it didn’t appear to be from his wounds as the smaller of those had been healed, and the larger was doing nicely. No signs of infection, or negative after effects. Simply a rather nasty looking scar, another long, angry reminder of their work that even Essence of Dittany might not be able to erase completely. A few more waves and he’d cast a triple thick cushioning charm on the bed before he removed the levitation spell. 

 

Harry fell the to the bed and was still for a moment before he began writhing and moaning again. Without the freakish floating, he’d instantly gone from staring in a muggle horror movie, to being the star of 95% of Draco’s wank fantasies. Countless were the times the mercurial blonde had seen Potter this way in his fantasies. Though in those fantasies, it was Draco who was the cause of the writhing and moaning. The reason that Harry’s chest was glistening with sweat. 

 

He stood, unsure what to do next. He wasn’t sure if Harry was having a nightmare, or what exactly was going on, this was different than anything he’d experienced previous with the man. If it were a nightmare, it could be violent and painful for both of them if Draco tried to physically wake him. Malfoy had learned that through painful experience. They had been on a stakeout the first time Draco had experienced one of Potter’s nightmares. He’d tried to wake Harry from the hold of whatever night terror had him in it’s grasp, only to find that his partner reacted to such things by coming up swinging. A broken nose, and several broken bones in a hand and MUCH apologizing on both parts, it was decided that the best course of action was to do nothing, unless it looked like Potter was going to do himself an injury.

 

While Harry’s writhing was energetic, it didn’t seem to be a danger to anything but Draco’s self control, and his libido. Though Draco still cast a few more cushioning charms. “Better safe, than sorry” was one of those Muggle phrases that Harry had taught him, and he figured that it certainly applied here. The extra softness was well received, as Harry once again arched and moaned before settling back onto the bed. Malfoy stood taking in the view of his partner’s writhing, arching body. The messier than usual hair, and the full, parted lips as yet another breathy moan passed over them. Draco found himself groaning internally, and adjusting his seems. The trousers now too tight and uncomfortable in the crotch area. He knew without a doubt that this site would be starting any many of his wank fantasies for many years to come. 

 

As he stood watching, one of Harry’s hands moved to rest over his own crotch. As he arched into the pressure, his breath hitched and a breathy _“Draco”_ escaped his lips. Well FUCK! Starting in ALL of his wank fantasies from this moment on it would appear! 100%. All Harry, all the bloody time!

 

And _THAT_ was the blonde’s undoing. Without a second thought, he crossed the small distance from where he stood to the edge of the bed. Long, pale fingers stretched to push sweaty black locks away from eyes that even while closed, he knew to be the most breathtaking emerald green in color. His fingers had barely touched a stray lock when lightening fast seeker’s reflexes grabbed him by the wrist, and in less than a moment he found himself winded, and on the bed next to Harry.

 

Before he could even protest the unnecessarily rough treatment, he found himself with an arm full of Potter. The man attaching himself to Draco’s side like a black haired piece of Devil’s Snare! Writhing, and arching and making Draco wonder what the fuck he had ever done in a previous life to make this one so fucked up. 

 

Draco tried to shift, which made Harry keen and attempt to throw a leg over the blonde as well. The keening turned into a whine of frustration as the sheet kept him from moving his legs as he wished. Draco found himself trying to simultaneously calm his partner and wandlessly vanish the offending material. The former was more easily accomplished as he rubbed circles onto whatever skin he could reach while crooning what he hoped were soothing sounds at the man in his arms. 

 

Draco did eventually manage to get rid of the sheet, and Harry threw his leg over him in an attempt to get even closer as if that were possible. It was as if Harry were trying to share Draco’s skin with him. His face pressed into the curve his neck, and his breath was coming in warm, broken pants. The blonde hoped that in his current state, his partner wouldn’t notice the state Draco was currently in. _‘Just my fucking luck that NOW would be the time he notices…’_

 

Continuing to rub and coo, he relaxed as, by degrees, Harry began to calm. He was still attached to Draco’s side, but his movements were less frantic, though the continuous roll of his hips did nothing to help Malfoy regain his composure. It was several long minutes before Harry seemed to slump completely. Like a ballon that suddenly had all the air released in one go. His weight was heavy against Draco, and he wondered if Harry had passed out. A shuddering sigh let him know that his partner was still with him, though what he heard next took his breath away. 

 

_“Dray”_

 

The arm around Harry tightened reflexively, as the other arm came up to run shaking fingers through messy black hair. Harry only called him Dray when things were intense. The first time he had used the endearment, Draco had scowled and railed, even while secretly cheering. They had been studying for one of their medic tests and Draco had been berating himself over his impending failure. Harry had called his name several time to no avail. It was only with an exasperated laugh and a _“Dray, shut the fuck up, already! You were second in the school, only surpassed by_ ** _Hermione_** _. You will NOT fail!!!”_  

 

It was in that moment that he knew for sure where he stood with Harry. Even Draco knew that nick names were something that the man only used amongst friends. The fact that Harry considered him a friend, meant more to him than he was even comfortable admitting to himself. He had blustered for a few moments more before Harry threw a pillow at him and invited him out for a pint to relax. 

 

Harry shuddered and Draco tightened his hold. Pushing into his neck, Harry shuddered again before his words tumbled out in a frantic rush. 

 

“It hurt so fucking MUCH, Dray! More than anything I’ve ever felt. So fucking much!”

 

Draco winced and held Harry tighter. He knew what Harry had gone through, himself having experienced some things similar. No one spent any time with that snake faced bastard child of a love potion gone wrong without knowing what the business end of the Cruciatus Curse felt like. Draco had a hard time imagining the kind of pain that Harry was referencing as a Cruciatus was painful enough to make your entire body and mind shut down, and if done too long both could break beyond repair. For Harry to say that pain was worse… and knowing that they had been set up. 

 

Draco carded his fingers through Harry’s hair and hummed softly. It was a tune that his mother would sing to him when he was feeling unwell and it always seemed to do the trick, though he was never sure if it was the melody, or the added attention. Harry shuddered again, hiccoughed and tried to burrow in deeper, a muffled sob escaping him as his shoulders shook.

 

Draco didn’t dare take a hand to dash away the moisture that was blurring his vision. His only hope was that his partner wouldn’t notice if the tears did fall. Draco continued to card and croon. 

 

“It hurt so much Dray. And then it didn’t. And then, and then… and you were there, and then you weren’t. I thought you had left me!” 

 

Draco’s breath caught. He would never leave his partner. The fact that Harry had spent so much time, trapped in his own mind, thinking he was alone. If Draco held him a little bit tighter, and if his hand shook while he continued to card his fingers through that incredibly soft, but equally incredibly messy hair, well it was no one’s business but theirs. 

 

It took all his willpower not to plant a kiss on that messy mop. Instead Draco settled for the truth. “You know I wouldn’t leave you, Harry. You know that. At least, I…I hope you know.” Draco’s tried his best to cover his voice cracking with a hasty clearing of his throat. “You’re my partner. And my best friend. I would never…”

 

Harry didn’t look up, he just kept talking into the side of Draco’s neck. The warm breath sending shivers up and down Draco’s spine. If Harry had been less upset, he might have noticed. And if he did notice, he said nothing of it. 

 

Instead he resettled himself in Draco’s arms. “I know Dray. But I told you to go… and then there was just darkness. But—“ Draco felt Harry tense as he hesitated. 

 

He continued drawing small circles on the man’s back for several minutes before curiosity got the better of him. “But what, Harry?”

 

Potter huffed, and shook his head. Jostling Draco’s head a bit in the process. “I don’t know… you’ll probably think I’m crazy”

 

“You mean crazier than I already think you are? Not bloody likely, now is it, _Potter._ ”

 

Harry laughed and swatted at him before mumbling “Prat”. He chuffed, sending a noticeable shiver through Draco. Yet again, neither made mention of it. “OK. Promise you won’t laugh, or have me carted off to St. Mungos the moment we get out of here. 

 

Draco hummed as if pondering all the great questions of the universe at once. “I’ll consider it, _Potter._ But if you’ve truly gone barmy, it’s my responsibility to protect the general public from your barminess. You do understand, don’t you old man?” 

 

Chuffing again before barking out a laugh, Harry pulled back for the first time to get a look at Malfoy’s face. What he saw made his breath catch. Draco looked like shite. Or at least, as shite as Harry had ever seen him. His face was paler than normal, and there were still hints of scars that were healing. And though his tone had been playful, his eyes shown with worry, even now, and had large black bags under them as if the man hadn’t slept in a very long time indeed. His lips were red, and raw. Harry knew from experience that Draco bit his lips when nervous. From the state of them, he must have been beside himself with worry. His hair, which normally never dared to move a millimeter away from where Draco left it was fanned out around him in a wild platinum blonde halo. It was the most disheveled Harry had seen him since Auror training. And in spite of it all, he was the most beautiful sight Harry had ever seen. 

 

Yawning, Harry smacked his partner again before settling back in his arms. Neither made comment about the fact that they were, for all intents and purposes, cuddling. “You are, and shall ever more be, a prat! Ya giant twat.” 

 

Draco’s huff of mock exasperation made Harry giggle. Though that sound was taken over by a sleepy yawn. They could regroup, and figure out what they were going to do later. Right now Harry was bone weary, and wanted to rest, and _Malfoy_ , for all his angles, made a remarkably comfortable pillow. Harry had just closed his eyes when he felt a little tapping on his scalp.

 

“AHEM! Excuse me, miniature twat. But would you care to finish your earlier train of thought? Or has it already left the station on its one way trip to _‘what the fuck ever land’_?”

 

Harry let slip another half laugh, half yawn. “But? But what?” 

 

Now Draco truly was exasperated. “Harrrrryyyyy!!!” 

 

No one could whine quite like Draco could. Harry found it amazing that he could make any word multisyllabic.”But… oh yeah.” Harry settled in, his eyes closing. He was so tired. He yawned again and stretched a bit. “It was just, I thought you had gone, and everything was dark. The pain was gone, but so were you. Then I felt this embrace, and it was soft and warm and I knew I would be fine. When I could see again, it was like I was in a cocoon of silver and grey feathers. Just seemed odd is all. Don’t you think so, Draco?” 

 

He could hear the uncertainty in Harry’s voice and gave him a bit of a squeeze. “When has anything around you NOT been _ODD_ , Potter?” They both chuckled and Draco gave him a bit of a squeeze. 

 

Harry chuckled and then yawned again. He couldn’t deny that statement. Not even a little bit. “Mmmmm. I do seem to be Fate’s bitch. Just wish she would use more lube, I’m getting rather raw!”

 

It started with a twitter, and then went to a guffaw, and that morphed into a full blown belly roll which only got worse when Harry swatted him. “Leave off! Pillows aren’t meant to wiggle about so!” A great yawn punctuated Harry’s half yawned statement.

 

“My apologies, your oddness. I shall endeavor to do better.” Draco followed up his statement with a yawn of his own. He hadn’t slept well in four days, and he was absolutely knackered. “Sleep. We’ll talk more later.” 

 

Harry snuggled in again, his breathing evening out. Draco had started to doze when he heard a mumbled “Dray?”

 

“Yeah Harry?”

 

“I’m glad you didn’t leave me. Even though I told you too. Thanks for not listening to me.”

 

Draco’s eyes were suddenly burning and prickly feeling. He was certain it was just because he was so tired. “Don’t mention it, Sir Oddness. Besides, when do I ever listen to you.”

 

“Mmmmm, that’s true.” Harry giggled as Draco gently cuffed him, his hand causing a soft breeze to ruffle his hair. “Draco?”

 

“Sweet Salazar Slytherin’s sweaty knickers. What, Harry?”

 

“I’m glad that if I need to be stuck here, it’s with you. And, umm, thanks for not laughing at me about the whole feather thing.”

 

“Don’t mention it Harry. Get some rest now. It’s been a rough couple of days.” Draco yawned, and Potter laughed. 

 

“Sounds to me like it’s been a rough few days for both of us.” Harry too yawned, and settled further into Draco. “Do you think it meant anything?”

 

“Did what mean anything?”

 

“The feathers?”

 

Draco hesitated a moment. If Harry had been on top of his game, he would never have let a clue like that go. Lucky for Draco, he wasn’t and so he did. Draco sighed and settled into the bed. Multiple cushioning charms made it far superior to the transfigured chaise he had been sleeping on, even with the cushioning charms he had added. He sighed before he simply said “It might have. I’m not sure. Can we talk about it later?”

 

“Sure Dray. Sorry.” Harry was quiet as he got comfortable. One arm was thrown across Draco’s chest, laying on his good side, his leg draped casually over his partner. “Dray?”

 

“Yes Harry?”

 

“Thanks.”

 

Draco summoned the blanket from the chaise and covered them with it. He was just drifting off when Harry mumbled in his sleep. It took one word to bring Draco fully awake again.

 

“… feathers”

 

_‘Well, FUCK!’_

 


	7. Secrets No Longer to Keep. aka From Angst…

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When your memories visit you waking or asleep, are they still nightmares? Is there ever a way to escape the past, and make amends for it too?
> 
> Severus ponders his past…

Severus didn’t bother to cast a Tempus. He knew the time, simply by the shadows that the moon threw across the trees on his property. The large Rowan at the front of the house worked exceptionally well as a natural sun/moon dial as well as being invaluable in some of his potions. 

 

The moon was nearly full, bright, and if you were accustomed to it, one could travel easily by its light. No need for so much as a weak Lumos. Many was the time that he had done so, allowing Hecate to guide him. The moon and her phases were known to him and she had been his constant and only companion on many a journey. She was the one female in his life that would never leave, or forsake him. Always there, even if he could not see her clearly. Coy as she was at times, shrouding herself in clouds, and in mists. Making him strive to catch just a glimpse of her magnificence.  

 

For years he’d the ability to tell time by both the sun and moon. Within 2-3 minutes if he had the leisure of it. 15 if he were in a hurry.For over half his life, Severus had been in a hurry, even while giving the appearance of being a calm and measured person. Being pursued by agents of both Light and Dark at various times, kept one rather fleet footed. The internal tempest of his duality, one he’d had to deal with mostly alone. He didn’t trust easily, and for years he couldn’t. Knowing that the secrets he kept would put others in danger if he shared them… that had alone had been enough to ensure that he kept his own confidences, and kept everyone else at one he hoped was a safe distance.  

 

He had searched the skies many a time and found his Lady, availing himself of her presence in far more trying times than these. Waxing or waning it mattered not. She was there for him. 

 

Though he was still worried about his Godson and his trouble prone partner, the two problem children were actually not the reason he was up at, Severus tilted his head, checking the shadows again, 2:15 in the bloody morning. No. What had gotten him out of his warm bed were the memories that still haunted him. Things he kept at bay while awake, but would slip in when his shields were thinner. 

 

Wrapping his arms about himself he sighed and made note to send his latest version of Wolfsbane to Tonks. Moony and the Mutt were traveling, so it would be there when they got back. He knew Tonks would see to it that the member of their triad that needed it, would get it. Over the years Severus, with Lupin as a most willing test subject, had greatly improved the potion to the point where the werewolf sang its praises to any and all that would listen. A few owls previous he said that while he still changed, it was at the worst, slightly uncomfortable instead of excruciating, and he’d been able to retain his full awareness. No longer was it the blind bloodlust that had signified his previous years of affliction. Severus had laughed as he read about Moony and Padfoot going for a late night romp during the last full moon. Severus hoped that this incarnation would be the one that saw Remus free of all discomfort. While the change might be inevitable for all full werewolves, Severus’ hope was that the pain would be a thing of the past. 

 

While no fault of his own, Snape had been personally offended by Greyback’s very existence. As he had found no way to rid the world of the man while he was still a ‘Death Eater’, _though not for lack of trying. Who knew that drinking silver would only make him sick_?Snape took it as his personal mission to ease the suffering the monster had caused before the world at large was put out of its collective misery when Lupin repaid Greyback’s earlier kindness of turning him, by ripping the werewolves’ spine out. Through his mouth. While it might not have been the cleanest kill, it was most certainly an effective one. Severus had only been saddened by the fact that he was not able to witness the mad dog being put down personally. 

 

After the final battle, and the truth of Severus’ role in it all had come out, Black, for his part apologized for being a gigantic twat while they were in school together. Lupin had simply smiled and agreed that he had been rather a twat, but was glad they could get beyond it. Thus began an odd friendship that now saw Snape that much closer to eradicating most negative side effects of lycanthropy. The eldest Weasley and Lupin still took their meat so raw Severus thought he heard it mooing. Though as far as a side effects went, that one was nearly as dire as the rest he’d managed to eradicate. 

 

So successful were his previous changes to the Wolfsbane potions, that other Ministries were paying a fee for his formula. The monies earned went back into research, and towards providing potions to those that couldn’t afford it. Severus’ ultimate goal was to find a cure, but until such a time, he would continue working to make transition as painless as possible. Being able to change, while maintaining awareness meant that “I couldn’t help myself” was no longer a viable defense, particularly coupled with free or reduce priced potions available to any and all who needed them. 

 

Statistics at the DMLE showed that werewolf related crimes had dropped to almost nothing, and complaints by werewolves of harassment and attacks had dropped as well. Soon ‘werewolf’ would not be an excuse for poor behavior, from either side. 

 

Severus took a slow cleansing breath and exhaled it slowly. He looked out the window once more and cursed the march of the shadows across his garden. At this point, he would get no rest at all. He should go back to bed, to at least attempt to rest. That was all the literature said that Grang…Hermione had bombarded him with when he made the mistake of mentioning these nights within hear shot of the meddlesome, but meaning well Witch. It was his understanding that _‘Potter had the same issues… and she had already done the research and well…’_ She’d only stopped prattling when one dark eye brow had climbed so far, it was threatening to come down, back round, and do an impression of a merkin. 

 

He was a Potions Master for Circe’s sake! Once he was done with the Wolfsbane, he was going to try to remove the addictive properties of Dreamless Sleep. Those potions had been far LESS effective.  

 

2:45. He knew he should just lay back down. At least his body would perhaps relax, and get some rest, however,he knew that if tonight were like so many others over the years, there would be no more sleep. Too busy replaying conversations, and choices made. Wondering at other outcomes if things had been different. If HE had been different. 

 

*****

 

_“Severus. You can’t do this.”_

 

One black eyebrow slowly heading North. Arms folded across a too thin chest, making him seem wider in the shoulder, but thin everywhere else. _“And why can’t I? Do you think me incapable?”_

 

The exasperated huff, explosive. _“Of course not, you irritating prat!_ ** _You_** _are capable of anything you set your mind to!”_

 

 _“An insult and a compliment in the same sentence. Not really sure that’s the way to go about convincing me, Evans.”_ His words light, his voice smiling. Pity that smile didn’t reach his eyes. Not sure of whom he was trying to convince more. Her, or himself. 

 

_“Severus. Why does it have to be you? It’s too dangerous! He’s no right to ask—“_

 

_“And who do you suggest, Lily? You? Potter?”_

 

_“I could! We could! We WOULD!”_

 

Now, it was Severus’ turn to snort his exasperation. _“Damn it all, Lil! I know you would! But you can’t! For starters, you’re a muggle born—“_ Severus was quick to continue before she could begin to rant anew. _“And there’s no way in Godric’s Golden kirtle they would believe that Potter hand joined their ranks.”_

 

_“But—”_

 

_“But nothing! I’m already in Slytherin, Lily. The assumption is already there that I’m a dark wizard.”_

 

_“But your—“_

 

 _“I know.”_ He hated to upset her so, but she needed to see reason. He opened his arms, and she came to him. Holding her tightly he kissed the top of her head. _“I know I’m not. And you know I’m not. But they don’t know that, and that is what’s most important. We need to know what’s going on, Lil. Scary, horrible things are beginning to happen. If I can help stop that…”_

 

He’d felt the fight go out of her, even as he held her. _“But why you, Severus? There must be someone older, or more experienced. It’s dangerous and,AND you promised me you would be there for the kids! Why does it need to be you?”_

 

He knew she was right. He had promised. Promises of babies, and Godparents, and weekends raising their families together. But, he no longer saw that future for himself. To be honest, he hadn’t seen it for her in a very long time as well. Sometimes being a Seerer was more of a curse than a blessing. But he hoped, with these sacrifices, he could give that back to her. 

 

“I’m sure there are others, Lil. I’m not the only one, I certainly don’t believe I am. As to why me…I’ve got less to lose, I would imagine.”

 

He’d said the wrong thing, and the fight was back as quickly as it had gone. The fire of it practically burning them both where they stood. _“NO! Damn it all. You’re NOT disposable! No expendable! How DARE he?!?!? He’s supposed to be light! How dare—“_

 

He knew this side of her all too well, and he gave her a shake to get through to her. _“LILY! LIL!”_ Hazel eyes stared back at him, watery and yet fierce. She was the brightest witch of their age, and a formidable one, and he would do anything, ANYTHING to protect her, even though she was not his to protect. _“Lily. I must. If it means finding out what they are really up to. If it means protecting you, then I will. Witches and Wizards all over the UK are disappearing. There is a darkness roiling under the surface of magical Britain. This can’t go unchecked much longer, or it may be too late. We may all be tainted with it. Do you understand why I’m doing this?”_

 

He asked, but he never was sure she really understood why. And if she did, if she could, or would acknowledge it. 

 

Auburn hair rested on his chest, and for the first time in a long time, he felt her shoulders shake. The voice was tiny, and broken and so not like his Lil. _“I don’t know why it has to be you, Severus. I don’t want it to be you!”_  

 

 _“Does it really have to be you, Snape?”_  

 

Severus had nearly forgotten the other boy was even there. Whatever emotions he was willing to share with Lily, were not ones he was willing to share now, not with him, not after… His face became a blank mask before he turned his attention to the other occupant of the room. The drawl was dismissive, and what one would expect between not quite enemies and not yet friends. _“What does it matter to you, Potter. I would think you would be well pleased to be rid of me. That is certainly the impression you’ve given me all these years.”_

 

I smiled to himself as he remembered that James had at least had the good grace to look chagrined. 

 

_“Be that as it may, that was then, and this is now. And it matters to me now, because it matters to Lily._ **_YOU_ ** _matter to Lily. You are important to her, which makes you important to me.”_

 

He remembers so clearly, the look on their faces. There had been silence then, as they all stood, staring one to another. It never feels like more than 20 years has past since he saw them last. They were all so young, so vibrant. Thinking, hoping that they had their whole lives to live. But Severus had known. Had begun to see. Perhaps that’s why the old man wanted him. His foresight. He had mentioned a prophecy, and asked Severus what he saw. Whatever it was he saw, it was not enough. The old man needed him closer still. 

 

 _“There’s been a prophecy.”_ He remembers James’ snort, and Lily rolling her eyes. He too had a chuckle, but it was a hollow thing. _“Yes, well, whether we believe in it or not, matters not. HE does. Dumbledore is afraid that whomever the prophecy involves will be targets. He needs someone close to let him know when that may be. That someone is me.”_

 

She looked at him then. Really looked, and Severus felt that it was the first time she had truly seen him. _“You would do that? Risk yourself? For what?_

 

_“For you.”_

 

They had talked into the wee hours of the morning. Had devised ways to stay in touch, though until this was done, and things were played out, for good, or for ill, they would not be able to be this close again. And when the prophecy came to light, he warned them to run, and so they did. The fury was great, and none were spared. If he didn’t know who had betrayed him, warned those he pursued, then all would pay for the betrayal. He would punish them all, and did, but it had been worth it. The excruciating pain, like fire through his veins had been worth it to know that she was safe for a little while longer. And when the attacks finally happened, he warned them again, but this time, he was too late. Once again a woman in his life, a woman he loved more than himself had left him. 

 

_“Oh, Lily!”_

 

He’d held her, and rocked her, and cried for the loss of her. He’d failed her. Failed them all. The warm smile, and the fiery temper were no more. And as he sat, Hecate lit the tracks of his tears, so clear, even in the darkness. The one woman who would not forsake him. It wasn’t until he’d heard the whimper, that turned into a cry that he knew he might still have a chance to save a part of what he’d loved so dearly. 

 

Messy black hair and tear filled green eyes bright in the moonshine greeted him. He remembers cooing, and the child’s panting sobs. He remembers bending, scooping, holding him close. Tiny fists clinging to his robes. _“Hello little one. I’m your Uncle Severus.”_ Eyes so large and round to be comical, if not in such a horrific circumstance. _“I was supposed to be your Godfather. One of them anyway. But alas, that is not to be.”_  

 

He remembers the snuffling noises, and how the child gone quiet in his arms. The recollection that it was the last time, in a very long time that the two of them would be calm with one another made him chuckle, even as the bitter sweet memories played themselves over again to remind him of their existence. As if he could ever forget them. He’d stood there, just holding him until the first cracks of Apparition had sounded. 

 

He masked his magical signature before kissing the child quickly on the forehead. _“I promise you, on my life, and on my magic, I will do everything in my power to protect you.”_ The oath settled on them like a cloak, and he’d taken one last look around the room before popping away as he heard Black’s bellow of _“James! Oh Merlin, no! James!”_

 

***

Severus looked out the window again. He was tired, but he knew he would get no rest. It was always the same. The same series of memories playing themselves out time and again. It was like one could not be seen without the other, even though he had no need for his mind to show any of them to him. He’d them after all, he wasn’t about to soon forget. Now he was just glad that they came less frequently, and weren’t debilitating as they had been when he was younger. When the hurts were fresher. He could find himself non functioning for days back then. Curled into a ball of grief and misery. Wondering why he had survived when so many hadn’t. _‘You almost didn’t!’_ the helpful little voice was quick to remind him. 

 

His foresight had been damaged. Too long dancing around the edges of darkness for a gift so pure. He still saw, but not as clearly. He had not foreseen the attack. And ass he lay dying, Hecate shown on him once more. She would be the last to look on his face. That was until a mop of messy black hair, and huge green eyes came into view. _“Take them!”_ The boy needed to know! Know that he hadn’t hated him, not really. Know that in another time, or another place, things would have been very different. And then all had gone dark. When he’d become aware of a blinding whiteness, he wondered if there had been a mistake in the sorting. This was not where he was supposed to be, of that he was sure. There was too much darkness in his veins, even if it had been done for the damnable _“Greater Good.”_ No. This was not his place to be. He was ready to pay for his sins, his failures. No bright white, or peaceful afterlife for him, of that he was certain. 

 

It wasn’t until he heard a sigh that sounded more relieved than disgusted, and a quiet _“Professor. Good of you to rejoin us”_ that he’d bothered to open his eyes fully. He’d expected to see anger, or condemnation, maybe even the disgust that he didn’t hear. All of that and more for his failures was what he’d expected to see if he were to see that face ever again. What he hadn’t expected to see, and what was plainly there, was gratitude. 

 

_“Thank you, Professor. For everything.”_

 

It was the last thing he’d expected to hear from anyone, particularly from that person. But hearing it was like freedom. As if everything he’d done had been worth it. He’d hope to Circe it had been worth it, and maybe, perhaps, it had been. 

 

_“Let me bring you up to speed, Professor.”_

 

And that was the beginning of them getting to know one another as adults, and equals, or at least something resembling it. For Severus, it felt like it was his first chance to breathe in over 20 years. A chance to live, not just survive. For both of them, it had been a time of rebirth. 

 

*****

_“Are you certain?”_

 

Severus rubbed the bridge of his nose. And counted to 30. In Latin. Backwards and forwards, and then back again. Twice. His voice was slow, and deliberate. 

 

_“Yes. I am certain. You asked me to conduct the tests. I did so, in spite of them not being completely legal for me to conduct. The answers are what they are.”_

 

_“This can’t be! If it’s found out—!”_

 

_“Be that as it may—“_

 

_“How can you say that! How can you be so calm! Do you have any idea what will happen if this gets out? It CANNOT be made public! Not now! Possibly not ever!”_

 

The histrionics were giving Severus a worse migraine than the one he had while conducting the tests. There had always been a chance, but the reality was one he didn’t wish to face. The reaction he was dealing with now was just one of those reasons.

 

_“We cannot hide this information forever. Don’t you think he—“_

 

_“No! He has obligations, and duties. Those come first! They must be met…”_

 

 _“And what of his own life. What of that?”_ He was sickened by how easily it seemed some where willing to make life choices for others. At least he had been consulted, recruited even, but this… 

 

_“Severus… you know the climate here. No one will take him seriously. He is to be a leader. If we lived—“_

 

He’d had enough and his calm demeanor finally snapped. _“If we lived somewhere that wasn’t so fucking backwards you mean? This wouldn’t even be an issue, or would barely be one, if we lived anywhere half way decent, and throughly civilized. However we don’t live there, we live here, where the Wizarding community seems to take pride in being 40 years or more behind the times. Which isn’t so bad I suppose since the Muggles are 50-60 behind.”_  

 

While the gasp had slowed his tirade, it didn’t stop him. _“Oh, don’t give me that bloody look! You know I’ll do as I must. But there is nothing that says I have to like it! We cannot hide this forever. It will come out eventually. It would be best if he were not ashamed of himself when it happens. If he is taught to accept his legacy.”_

 

_“Accept it? Why would we—“_

 

_“Because he can’t bloody well change it, now can he! Or would you rather he hate a part of himself for the rest of his life? Would that make it easier for you to control him?”_

 

When he looked around the table, and was met with nothing but silence, Severus wondered, not for the first time, why he was even bothering. This time it was a count of 50, and he took great glee in watching them fidget as he stood there, glaring at them all. Like a bunch of naughty children caught pulling the Crup’s tails. 

 

After more discussion, a lot more swearing, some debate on whether on not he should be told… _“YES!”_ and when _“Sooner, rather than later, wouldn’t you agree?!?”_ A potions regime was set up, with a reminder that _“at some point, he would need to be taken off of it, and nature would have to be allowed to take Her course”._  

 

*****

 

That had been what, 13 years ago? When Severus allowed himself to think about it, it seemed he was always fighting one battle or another. On one side, or the other. Always in the middle. Pretending at being dark, while fighting for the light. Contending with light wizards that were, at their magical cores, as dark, and as nasty as any that were legion amongst Riddle’s followers. Some still never seemed to grasp the concept that evil, done in the name of light, was still, simply evil. 

 

Looking out the window once more, Severus knew that any hope for a proper nights rest was gone. Conjuring a bit of parchment and ink, he summoned a house elf who silently popped into existence at his side. Without a word he gave the letter over, and the elf popped away again. This was a once or twice a month occurrence. Severus knew his secretary would get the note on her arrival, and readjust his calendar accordingly. 

 

He was just contemplating returning to bed as a pair of strong, warm arms wrapped around him. He shivered as a warm breath ghosted over the area between his shoulder blades, high lighting how cold he’d actually gotten while standing their dancing with his demons. 

 

“You think awfully loudly, Sir.” Severus turned in the embrace to face his accuser. His eyes, accustomed to the dark saw all too easily both the playfulness, and the worry in his companions eyes. 

 

“My apologies, Misha. I didn’t mean to wake you.” He leaned in, kissing the man’s forehead and smiling at the little purr the action elicited. 

 

“No need for apologies. It’s your home after all. I was simply… concerned.” It took effort for Severus to not say what he truly thought of that. This was beyond simple concern, the man’s hands had been drawing constant little circles on every bit of skin Severus allowed him to touch. His hands spoke the words his voice , dared not. 

 

Leaning in, he kissed him again. “Thank you, but nothing to worry yourself about. Just some rather persistent memories that felt now was a good time to make themselves known again.” 

 

“Hmmm…” The sound was contemplative “Allow me to take your mind off of the past, and give you a reason to concentrate on the present, _Sir…_ ” 

 

 


	8. Secrets No Longer to Keep. aka To Spanks!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Misha decides to give Severus something else to keep him awake in the wee hours.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) Sorry about the translations. Hope they are accurate.
> 
> 2) BDSM and D/s for me are not one in the same. You can have them together, or one without the other. My boys seem to want both, though they will most likely lean more D/s with power exchange being more important than Bondage and St. Andrew’s Crosses. Sorry. Love those things but…
> 
> 3) Yes. It’s possible. I know someone who can do that. He’s AMAZEABALLS to play with. You’ll know what I mean when you get there. 
> 
> 4) Self indulgent porn is self indulgent. LOL 7738 words. I just hope it’s not too boring. I stunned myself! LOL
> 
> 5) Enjoy.  :)

_“Hmmm…” The sound was contemplative “Allow me to take your mind off of the past, and give you a reason to concentrate on the present, Sir…”_

 

The man knew exactly the affect saying _Sir_ in that tone had on Severus. It was like a shot of liquid sex straight to his cock.

 

“Is that so?” He purred, crowding the blonde, and pulling his head back gently with a handful of hair. “Well then, proceed, Mr. Donahue.” Severus silently bid farewell to Hecate, and welcomed the dawning day for it allowed him to catch the fluttering of eyelashes, and the convulsive up and down movement of the man’s Adam’s apple before he spoke. 

 

Misha twisted his head, feeling his hair slip through Severus’ fingers. With a smile and twist of his hips, he looked the older man in the eyes, smirking at what he saw there. He leaned in making sure to let his words ghost against the man’s skin. “It will be my pleasure to do so, again. _Sir._ ”

 

Not for the first time that evening, Severus was glad he’d invited the young minx back to his. With a growl he backed them towards one of the leather chairs by the hearth. Before Misha could sit, he turned them, bringing the younger man down to rest on his thighs. Severus once again found himself with a lap full of blonde. 

 

“Is this not almost how we started our evening, Mr. Donahue?” Snape’s tone was playful, his hands coming to rest on two firm globes of flesh, pulling the man toward him while squeezing and kneading. There may not be any whiskey to be had now, but there was also no meddlesome clothes between him and the hard muscles and warm skin resting in his lap.  

 

Severus tilted his head, and smirked before he landing a swat on a firm ass cheek, grinning at the moan and bucking it elicited. The cocks sliding against one another as the man writhed on Severus’ lap. Snape bit back a moan before landing a slap on the other cheek. “I think I asked you a question, Mr. Donahue.” This time, Severus swatted him with both hands, before squeezing and jiggling him on his lap.

 

Misha rolled his hips again, and moaned before releasing a breathy “Da, Ser!” 

 

Severus’ eyebrow was a few centimeters short of his hairline when the young man’s eye’s flew open. Severus couldn’t help but smile as Misha blushed deep red. “What was that, Mr Donahue?” Snape didn’t think it was possible, but the young man blushed even deeper red before burying his face against Severus’ neck, and huffing.

 

With much regret, his left hand left its delectable perch to once again thread itself into blonde hair. Severus gave a tug, and then another swat with his right hand. Growling with satisfaction at the panting breathes and rolling hips. He reached across to swat the other cheek, the angle not as good, but just as effective if the wetness spreading along his cock was to be believed. Misha’s cock was streaming pre ejaculate, and when he looked at Severus again, his eyes were almost black, so lust blown and dilated they were. 

 

He noted that the man had gone almost limp in his arms, giving himself over totally to the pleasure, and Severus’ control. There was something so thrilling about having this capable man in his thrall, that it awakened the most base and feral instincts in Severus. Instincts that Severus had long denied he even had. 

 

He would often scoff when he heard other Alpha’s speak of the red haze that would come over their thoughts. Seeming to erase all higher functions, reducing them to a mass functioning on instincts alone. The ones that told them to claim, and to mark. To take as their own. Severus had always written it off to poor self control, and weak excuses for the same. But now… now he understood. He wanted to stake his claim on this man in the most base of ways. He knew the grip on his ass cheek was bruising. Severus knew that when he looked, there would be hand prints, and he didn’t care. He took great thrill in the fact that next he looked, there would be signs of his possession on this flesh. 

 

He shook Misha again. Swatting his cheeks to emphasize each word. “What” *swat* “was” *swat* “that” *swat* “Mr.” *swat* “Donahue?” *swat swat swat*. By the time he was done, Misha was mewling, his hips rolling and bucking. Severus was certain that he could come again with just this alone. But that was not how he wanted to come. He wanted to spill himself deep in that wonderfully tight arse he had explored early. He wanted to paint the man’s skin with it. Cover him from head to toe in his seed. Mark him with sweat, and tears. Come and Chaos. He wanted to mark him, and claim him and make him his very own. 

 

He made Severus’ blood boil!

 

They had sat for hours in his office. Discussing the DMLE and where Donahue wished to go with the Ministry. Within the first 30 minutes, he knew that the man’s talents were being wasted with the Aurors. He’d already completed Auror training in the US. He recertification was supposed to be a formality. It was only archaic views of Omegas that hid him playing desk jockey to begin with.

 

Within the first 60 minutes, he knew that he wanted him for his own department. He’d graduated top of his class, was fluent in 4 languages and passible in two others. He’d already done a year in the American ‘Muggle Liaison’ office, as well as having earned a commendation for bravery. When he’d inquired with one of the supervisors about it, he rolled his eyes and said it was “ _probably for saving a kitten from a tree. You know how the Americans are about their precious Omegas._ ” It’d actually been for a hostage situation where he’d managed to get the hostages released, and talked the Wizard, high on some illegal Muggle drug, into turning over his wand, and going quietly before anyone was seriously injured. 

 

Before they left the department, to continue the conversation “Somewhere more comfortable” Severus had known he wanted the man in his bed. They had gotten to the bed, eventually. That after dinner, and more talk, for hours. Talk had turned to touching, had turned to tasting, had turned to them frotting together on the couch like two teenagers. When they had both come in their pants like a couple of 13 year olds, they had collapsed in hysterics on the couch. It had actually taken several failed attempts before Severus could stop laughing long enough to clean them, and stumble into the bedroom. 

 

Now? Now he wanted so much more. There was no way he could get a taste of this delicious creature, and then let him go for someone else to plunder. This was not going to be a one off, or some quick tumble. Not if he had his way. Just the thought of someone else touching the very same muscular thighs that were wrapped around Severus made him a bit mental. The image of another pair of hands, hands not his own, caressing those thighs brought forth another growl and Severus leaned forward and bit, just over Misha’s heart. He sucked back hard, worrying the flesh with teeth and tongue. Primal satisfaction making him smirk around his mouthful as the man on his lap simultaneously arched away from him, while pushing his chest against the mouth that was torturing him. 

 

It was with a pleased smile that he viewed the love bite coming to bloom on that pale, white skin. He had every intention of it being one of many marks left to commemorate their time together. He released Misha’s hair, and shifted so he could wrap his arm around more firmly around the younger man’s torso. He pulled and hummed as the new positioning gave him the access he wanted. 

 

Misha had only a moment to register the change before fiery hell was being visited upon his person by one very thorough potions master. It felt like the man was made of hands, and they were everywhere. And Goddess, but it was wonderful! The heat radiated from his ass, up his spine and seemed to dance and tickle at the nape of his neck. Every stroke seemed to set a new cluster of nerves alight. He danced under Severus’ finger tips, and he loved every minute of it. It was so hot, and it hurt so good, and he was so close. So very, very close. 

 

Suddenly the hand was still. Resting on his ass, blunt nails scraping against heated skin. It was good, and not good enough. He whined, and wriggled, begging with his body. More… just a little more. The pain came so quickly, it stole his breath away. All he could register was that it had moved North. It took him a moment to realize that it was coming from his scalp. Severus had him by the hair again. And then the pain was multiple places. His hair, his chest, his ass. 

 

Severus wanted to devour him. To consume him. To unmake him. Watch him come undone, so he could have the pleasure of putting him together again, only to undo him again, and again and again

 

“Such a sweet little thing. Such a wanton little thing. Shameless in the taking and the giving a pleasure. Aren’t you, my Misha?”

 

_‘Ohhhh yes… yes yes yes’_ Another shake of his head had his eyes flying open and trying to focus. He knew he should answer, but so hard to think… so hard…

 

He should have been annoyed. In the past, he would have been. But now, he was just amused and extremely pleased with himself. He loved that he could reduce the man in his lap to a babbling puddle of pre come. Another shake, and a swat for good measure. _“_ Do you like this, Misha? Tell me!”

 

Severus knew the answer. Of course he did. Any fool could see the truth. Feel the truth. Their cocks were hard, and Severus’ thighs were wet with the Omega’s arousal. But he wanted to hear it. Even if he had to wait for the answer. Even if it came out an incoherent babble. At this moment Severus was more than willing to wait as long as it took. 

 

Another jarring swat. Another moan, and Severus didn’t have long to wait at all. 

 

“Da, Ser. Da. Eto khorosho . Tak ochen' khorosho!” 

 

Severus chuckled. He wasn’t certain what was said. Russian was one of the languages he’d never been fluent in, but if the fresh rush of slick that coated his fingers was any indication, it was good. Very good. He shifted again, pulling Misha close, and slid those fingers down between the cheeks of his arse. The man was drenched, and Severus’ cock twitched at the memory of how good it felt to slide through all of that wetness. He would be buried in there again, before dawn fully broke, but for right now, this teasing, this torment was too delicious to rush. Years spent rushing between one task master and another… now, he was his own Master and he chose to savor each and every precious moment. 

 

Two fingers became three, and when he bent them, crooked them, just…so…

 

“Da, Ser! Da! O! Pozhaluysta, Ser! Pozhaluysta!”

 

It was fast, and intense and most likely a bit uncomfortable as their earlier fucking had been boarding on brutal and extremely feral at times. But the way that greedy little hole was swallowing his fingers, and the way the man on his lap was moaning and undulating, he was sure his efforts were not unwelcome. 

 

With a squelching sound that was almost obscene, (oh, who was he fooling, it was obscene, but who cares, because it was fucking GLORIOUS) Severus removed his fingers from the gripping heat. Before he could reposition them, the babbling began in earnest. 

 

“Net! Net! Pozhaluysta, Ser! Anything! Please. Prosto… pozhaluysta! Ya.. ya please.” 

 

The man was a quivering mess, and it thrilled Snape to know he took him there. Pulling him close he worried first one nipple with his teeth, and then the other. When he finally released them they were hard dusky buds against the paleness of Misha chest. Though now that landscape was no longer unblemished, covered as it was with love bites of various sizes and intensity of color. 

 

Two long, thin fingers slid back in. Misha quivered as his insides were stroked again. He felt like an ember, that was just moments from bursting into full flame. There was a rushing in his ears, and all he could hear was his own heart beat and his moaning and babbling. _‘So close. So very close…’_

 

“Chert poberi! Net net net! Pozhaluysta, Ser!”   _‘So fucking EVIL. He’s stopped again AND he’s laughing at me. Bastard!’_ He was sure he was going to lose his mind at any moment. No one had ever taken him for a ride like this. Cresting and dipping. Making him want it to be over, while making him want it to never end. The man was evil. An evil genius, but evil none the less. 

 

Misha jumped as the fingers inside him twitched and flexed. Not enough to push him to the edge, but enough. Just enough. He started to roll his hips again. His voice was ragged, broken to his own ears, and he couldn’t remember to time he sounded so wrecked. 

 

“Please, Sir. So close. Pozhaluysta, Ser …”

 

“Mmmm. You do beg so prettily—“

 

“Thank you, Sir.”

 

“But you don’t have permission to spill. Yet. I have other plans for that.”

 

This. This was his own fault! He had not only given the man the road map to his undoing, he’d given him the keys to the vehicle to get him there! It was obvious he was attracted to the man. The whole sitting on his lap, and licking his tongue kind of proved that. Then they had talked. Really talked. And Severus Snape was the kind of Alpha he’d dreamed of. The kind he figured he would never find. Part Angel, part Demon, depending who you asked. Strong, magically powerful, utterly brilliant, and a bit of an evil genius. 

 

He had talked to him, not at him. Actually listening to what Misha had to say, something that was a rarity since he’d gotten to London. And the way he said his name, _“Misha”_ as if it was the most delicious thing to ever cross his tongue so he held it, and rolled it around and savored it, made his spine tingle and his ass twitch in anticipation of being filled. Yes, they’d only known one another for hours, but in that time, Severus had shown him more consideration than some he’d known for years.

 

When they had finally made it to the bed, Severus had kissed and licked, rubbed and touched every bit of him as he undressed him. Tasting him from his collar to his pant cuffs. He had smiled as he felt the familiar wash of a cleaning spell prepare him. It was usually a harsh spell, often tossed about haphazardly by an overeager Wizard, but Severus’ magic had been gentle. The best way to describe it was like an internal caress. Next was a contraception charm, and even though he wasn’t in heat, he appreciated it, and two protection charms. By the time they were done, he was writhing and panting on the bed, and close to his first naked orgasm of the night.

 

He’d laid there, a goofy smile on his face, until Severus’ incredulous look made him blush scarlet. 

 

_“Sorry, sorry. It’s just… I usually have to do those for myself, if I want them done, and I think I’m a little drunk on your magic.”_

 

He’d been stared at for several more minutes, until finally the man had undressed in silence, crawled onto the bed, and kept crawling until they were pressed together from head to toe. Then, and only then, he’d leaned over and whispered in his ear. _“You’ve had some terribly selfish, and horribly inconsiderate partners. I shall endeavor to buck that trend.”_ And he had. Over, and over, and over again. 

 

And now? Now he had him strung tight. Like a bow string ready to snap. And yet to please him, he would hold fast. He whined, but continued thrusting. The feeling of their cocks rubbing together, too wonderful, even if it was driving him mad. It felt too good to stop. He felt the surprising warmth of a cleansing charm, followed quickly by another contraception charm. He couldn’t help but snicker. 

 

“Something funny, Mr. Donahue?”

 

He bit his lip, contemplating for just a moment if he should voice his silly thought. Certain as he was that he was a bit magic drunk, and it would make no sense as soon as he said it. However when he looked into Severus’ eyes, he knew that not answering wasn’t an option, and for some reason that made him giddy and laugh that much harder. He finally calmed himself enough to lean forward, and kiss one incredulously inclined eye brow.

 

“It was your wash of magic, Sir”

 

A soft hum “And you find my concern, _amusing_?” 

 

Misha wasn’t sure of the tone, but he found himself unable to resist kissing the other brow. “No Sir. I was simply thinking that if I managed to get pregnant now, the child would come out wearing armor.”

 

For a moment, he was afraid that he shouldn’t have spoken… perhaps made something up. However before he could fix it Severus had simultaneously grabbed both his ass cheeks, HARD, and slanted their mouths together in a bruising kiss that left him light headed and panting when it finally broke.

 

“You cheeky little minx!” Misha felt the knot in his chest relax. Severus’ tone was exasperated, but playful. “Get your pretty arse up here right this minute, and ride my cock! I want to be balls deep in you so we can welcome the dawning day properly.” 

 

“Ohhh. Yes, Sir.” Quick to comply, he scooted up so that Severus’ cock was rubbing along the furrow of his ass. Before he could reach back, he felt his cheeks be prised apart, and the thick head pushing against him again. He was raw and sensitive from their earlier couplings, and the little spike of pain mixed with pleasure made his own cock twitch. 

 

Palms against his cheeks, and fingers in the cleft, he could feel himself being opened. Being made ready for cock just waiting to breach him once more. He wiggled his ass, and his breath hitched as he felt the head rubbing back and forth against his relaxing opening. 

 

“Fuck me!”

 

“With pleasure, Sir!”

 

And then they were off to the races! The pace was fast, and brutal and oh so delicious. Severus had the advantage of leverage, his feet planted firmly on the floor. He was all too happy to buck up into every downward thrust Misha offered. Two handfuls of muscular young man to keep his hands busy. Pulling down, spreading wide, while thrusting up, and sinking his cock into his handsome partner over, and over, and over again. Swallowing the groans that the tight, clenching muscles were trying to wring from him. Severus was an attentive partner, and after he tagged Misha’s prostate with a particularly vigorous thrust, and the younger man let out an appreciative moan, he made sure to hit the same exact spot every other time after that. 

 

The repeated slide over the sensitive bundle of nerves as Severus thrust in and the pull on his walls as Severus’s cock slid out was going to be his undoing. He was being overwhelmed by sensation. Full, and empty and full again. Every part of Severus was present and active in their fucking. Hands on his ass. Lips, teeth, and tongue everywhere else he could reach. I bite to his chest, a lick to his neck. A kiss full of tongue, and teeth, and promise. Bodies bucking, and sliding, and writing together. 

 

And then he began to giggle. Misha knew he was wound high and tight, because his brain had started to go to those funny places he went when he was trying to extend the pleasure. Silly comments, and finding humor in a look or a sound. He tried to stop, but that just made him laugh more. 

 

Seeming to have quickly become accustomed to his little idiosyncrasies, Severus didn’t question him this time, simply stood for a moment, and repositioned them so that Misha’s legs were resting over the rounded arms of the chair they were in. 

It meant he sank lower, but Severus had to surge higher, his back bowing to thrust into him, hands on his hips to keep him from flying off of the chair completely.  

 

Their new position was interesting. It meant that Severus could go deeper, but it was more work for both of them. They only stayed that way for a short while before Severus shifted them back to the original again. And for that, Misha was grateful. This position meant more contact, and he like that very much, thank you, and if you please!

 

Misha settled his legs on either side of Severus’ thighs again and leaned forward, using the back of the chair for support. The position put his nipples in easy reach of Severus’ greedy mouth and he was all too happy to take advantage of their convenient proximity. The hands on his ass, taking advantage of well… the handfuls of ass. Severus was rubbing, and squeezing, and pinching and smacking him. 

 

Ooohhh the lovely smacks! Each one a frisson of desire that shot up his spine. And mix of pleasure and pain so hot, and intense that he wondered if was going to survive the overload to his senses. 

 

He’d told Severus many things, many very personal things. Some he’d never really shared with anyone else. The man just made him feel comfortable, and safe. Made him want to open up, and let him in. At first, Misha had wondered if it was some sort of Compulsion Spell at work, but he quickly dismissed that notion. He’d read up on Snape once he’d left the reception area. He was certain that someone like that would have some pretty strict ideas about free will, and consent, and about not violating either on a whim.   

 

No, the only ‘charm’ in place was Severus’ own. Misha was drawn to the man. He made his blood hum with raw power, and the edge of danger that buzzed around the man’s aurora. He was the kind of Alpha found in novels, but seldom in person, or at least, that had been his experience, until now. Strong, Dark, Powerful. Alpha enough without having to proclaim it at every turn. The man just was. No need to blow his own horn. _‘Though he could do so if he wished, he was long enough, and flexible enough to reach.’_

 

The errant thought made Misha giggle again, and a volley of smacks was his reward, which, you know, just made him giggle more. ‘ _Oh, Circe. He was in trouble’._  

 

It was an odd, joyous, and sometimes painful loop when he got like this… just about any, and all stimulation making him laugh which in turn some Alpha’s took as disrespect, which in turn would get him swats, and not always the good kind. But this… oh, this was very good.  Very good, indeed. He knew his ass would complain later, but right now, all the attention it was getting was just sending him into fits of giggles, interspersed by moans, and panting to try and catch his breath as Severus shifted and began to tag his prostate on every inward thrust. 

 

He was being battered, both inside and out, and he was loving every moment of it. 

 

He was certain his ass would be bruised by the time the sun fully rose, and he didn’t care. His rim would be raw, and sore from Severus’ knot hammering against it, and he didn’t care about that either. Every ache, and pain would be a reminder of the deep desire and want that was growing, stretching, demanding his attention. 

 

He could feel it coiling in his belly as he bounced with abandon. His mind had taken up a chant of _‘Don’t spill. Don’t spill. Don’t spill.’_ When that _‘oh so helpful’ little voice said ‘He said not to spill… he didn’t say you couldn’t come.’_ Oh no… Oh no, oh no, oh no. He could feel it coiling, building. No… he mustn’t… but now that the thought was there. 

 

His movements were erratic, and he knew, oh Gods, he knew… if Severus just kept rubbing that spot, he would send him over the edge. He tried to slow it down. To keep the spark from turning into an inferno. He tried to shift, to stop his pleasure center from being continuously stimulated, but Severus was having none of that. Instead he grabbed his cheeks even harder and stabbed into him once, twice, and on the third time, it hit him like a freight train!

 

He howled as his orgasm rolled through him. Shuddering and whimpering, it was only Severus’ strong hands on him that kept him from toppling off of his perch, and unto the floor. 

 

He heard a growl, and felt Severus’ hips pick up the pace. Fucking him without pause or mercy as the orgasm rolled over him in waves. He finally slumped forward, and had but a moment before his head was yanked back and half lidded blue was looking into stormy black.

 

“I thought I told you not to—“ Severus tirade ended as quickly as it had begun. 

 

Misha could only wince and wait. Severus’ hand had shot to his cock, grabbing him roughly. Most likely to rub his fingers through the spill he would find there. Except… 

 

Severus loosened his grip but didn’t remove his hand from the sweaty blonde strands. “Did you just…”

 

“Mmmmm? Mmm Hmm.” He nodded a bit, smiling as he noticed Severus still had a handful of his hair. He was never capable of talking much after, particularly when the orgasm had been that strong. He hope the answer was sufficient. He was too tired to smirk, but he did do a little dance internally when he heard Severus swallow and his voice come out husky with want.

 

“Can you do that again?” Severus’ voice was needy, hopeful. It had been years since he’d been with anyone who could… 

 

“Mmm Hmmm. Give. Minute.” Misha snuggled into Severus and purred when he realized that the man was still hard, maybe even harder than he had been previously, and still buried deep inside him. He rolled his hips gently, smiling at the hiss it drew forth from his lover. 

 

Slowly, as he came back to himself, his movements became more energetic, more enthusiastic. Eventually the fog cleared and he sat back, still rolling his hips, and looking at Severus with a smile. 

 

“Sorry about that, Sir.”

 

“Sorry? For what exactly?” The insecure part of Severus was hoping that he wasn’t now regretting their time together, though the rational part of him chided him for being a fool, seeing as how the man was still riding his cock, and seeming to enjoy it.

 

“For surprising you with…” Misha smiled, and then laughed nervously. “Truth be told, it was a surprise to me as well.”

 

“Oh…” Severus smirked at the blush the infused the mans chest, throat and cheeks. “Do tell.” 

 

Misha bit his lower lip, and Severus leaned up to sooth the worried, and raw appendage with his tongue, drawing a moan from the younger man before they broke apart again. 

 

“I…”

 

“Yesss” 

 

“It’s just…”

 

“Mmmm”

 

“I’ve never done that with someone else before!” 

 

The words came in a torrent, and then Misha was buried in the crook of Severus’ neck. He swore he could feel the man’s blush searing his skin. Severus left him there for a moment while he processed what he’d just learned. He stroked his fingers through damp blonde strands, feeling their owner relax by degrees. 

 

“I’m honored, Misha.” There was a gasp, and if possible, the man burrowed in deeper still. Severus could only laugh before he soothed. “I am, little one. No one else you say? How is that so?” Severus was a patient man. A very patient man when it was to his advantage. And so he waited. 

 

Misha sat up again, and shuddered. Severus as after all still hard, and deep inside him. Even having a lap full of emotional blonde wasn’t enough to put him off of his game it seemed. He looked at the man, and gave a lopsided smile. “You know how you spoke of selfish lovers?”

 

Severus simply nodded, and tightened his arm around Misha. He didn’t like to think of others toughing his… touching the man in his arms. 

 

“I decided that if I were going to get satisfaction, I might have to provide it myself. I read about it, in some erotica, and then went searching for some information. It took awhile, but I taught myself. Not something they normally teach in the finishing school I went to.”

 

“But you’ve never done that with anyone else? Why not?” Severus was willing to admit, at least to himself, that he was confused.

 

“I don’t know. It just seemed very intimate to share with just anyone.” At that Misha’s blush darkened several more shades, but he continued none the less. “And I’ve not had some of the best partners in the past, and I kind of felt that they would take it as some giant ego thing that they had done. So, I’ve always kept it for myself. Until now.” Misha’s hands were now fluttering nervously along Severus’ shoulder. “I hope you’re not mad at me…” 

 

Part of Severus’ insides melted. For all of his sophistication, and experience, the man on his lap was still young, and very eager to please. His uncertainty endearing him to Severus in ways that at one time, would have worried the bitter old Potions Master. But now? Now he just wanted to protect the man sitting in his lap. Regardless of the fact that he was the best lover Severus had in years, if not ever. 

 

Leaning up, he kissed him quickly. “Misha… why would I be mad at you?”

 

With a huff and a roll of his eyes, Severus was reminded just how young his lover was. “Ummm, hello. You were fairly perturbed when you thought I had spilled. And you told me not to and I—“

 

“Did you spill?”

 

“No, but—“

 

“Did you?”

 

“No.”

 

“I will admit to being annoyed when I thought you had, and for that, I apologize. I told you not to spill. I’ll know to be more specific in the future” 

 

Misha whimpered. The idea of someone controlling his orgasms and his ejaculations was an incredible turn on for him. Though until now, it had only been a dream as he’d yet to meet anyone he wanted to give that much control to. Until now. 

 

“But knowing what actually occurred…” Severus’ voice was a deep growl now that sent shivers up and down Misha’s spine. “It’s an incredible turn on. How many times can you orgasm, before you have to release?” Severus had all kinds of scenarios in his head. Each more decadent than the previous one, but he needed to know details.

 

“Ummm, it really depends on how much time I have. I’ve been able to do it four or five times before my body says enough, and I allow myself to ejaculate.” He didn’t even have to look in his older lover’s eyes to know how much he was enjoying that information. The twitch and the swell of the cock inside him told him that Severus found it to be very pleasing news indeed. 

 

“Can you again?” 

 

Even though it was stated as a question, Misha knew it really wasn’t. Severus wanted him, and the man got what he wanted. Good thing that he was all too happy to give it. 

 

“Da, Ser. Kak vam budet ugodno. As you wish.”

 

Snape’s smile was positively feral. “As it should be, little one. As it should be.” And then their fucking began in earnest again. 

 

Any hesitations that he might have had, were washed away with the knowledge of what Misha had given him. He thought he had wanted the man before, but now? There was no way he was willing for this to be a one off. He wanted the man in his arms in every way imaginable. And while he was certain some would say it was too fast, he didn’t give a flying Hippogriff. He knew better than most how short, and brutal life could be. That something a glorious as this man was dropped in his lap, literally. That was not a gift he was willing to ignore. That Fate seemed to finally be tired of fucking with him, was a very GOOD thing indeed!

 

Severus was brought back to the present by the shudders and whimpering of the man on his cock. Severus held him tight as they continued to rock and grind together. “Are you close again”. 

 

A quick nod and a breathy “Da, Ser.” Was all that he could manage. 

 

Severus gripped slender hips, pushing down as he thrust upwards, hard and fast. “Don’t hold back. Come for me, little one. But do NOT spill.”

 

A shudder like a small quake went through the man as he babbled in several languages. Severus catching “Yes Sir”. and “so good” and “Please” and “more, yes more” in at least three he could identify. Severus fucked him through his orgasm, snapping his hips as the babble subsided to a chant of “yes, yes, yes.” 

 

“Hold onto me.” Severus didn’t wait for a reply, and simply smiled as the man clung to him like a limpet as he stood and made his way to the bed. 

 

Severus was pleased that there was no need to unsheathe himself from the velvet lined vice his cock was happily nestled in, and he simply continued thrusting as he settled them in the middle of the bed. He pulled back, admiring how Misha’s blonde hair was now dark with sweat, and curling from the moisture. It fanned out around him on the dark pillowcases, and looked like the halo of a fallen, and debauched Angel. His lips were kiss swollen, and formed an O, yet no sound escaped other than breathy pants. His torso was littered with love bites, and Severus had the urge to bend and darken several, and so he did. 

 

Their coupling was more languid this time, Misha clinging to Severus with all for limbs, kissing and arching into each thrust. Severus for his part, slid his arms under Misha’s back, and pulled down on his shoulders, trying his utmost to bring the man even closer still. They writhed and moaned, kissed and bit. The younger man leaving several claiming marks of his own on Severus’ pale skin. Not that he would complain. Never had he felt so desired, nor ever had a lover bold enough to mark him in return. 

 

They continued to move together until Severus felt his own desire coiling low in his belly. The tightness in the small of his back telling him that he would soon be falling over the edge himself. His hips because to piston as he leaned into his lover. His words a warm breeze against the shell of an ear. “I want you.”

 

Blue heavy lidded eyes looked back at him. A blissed out and tired smile on puffy, full lips. “You have me, Sir.” 

 

Severus smiled and pushed forward, rolling his hips to emphasize his words “I want all of you, Misha. Will you let me have you?” 

 

Large blue eyes went impossibly wide, and Severus would have laughed it not for the implication. To think that he might be the first to ever bother asking… Severus bit back his anger. This was not the time for it, but they would be having this talk at another time. Severus was very good at the teaching of manners where they seemed to be lacking.  

 

Instead he kissed those bitten lips, and that tantalizing bit of shoulder that his fingers weren’t splayed across. He licked and nipped that fluttering pulse point on the man’s neck that had caught his eye more than once. He kissed the tip of his nose, and his eye lids, and every bit of him he could reach without hindering their movements. 

 

He ground against the man in his arms, and smiled at the shudder than ran through him, biting back his own gasp as fluttering muscles gripped and teased him to the edge of madness. 

 

“May I have you, little one?” Severus would respect the answer, whatever it was, though he hoped for a yes. 

 

A lopsided smile was his answer before a nod and a “Da, Ser. All of me.” 

 

Severus’ thank you came in the form of a warm wash of magic. Several protection charms, and a relaxing charm as well. It would still be a tight fit, as he was swollen quite a bit, but he would do everything in his power to make it pleasurable for Misha.

 

Severus’ motions changed now. Shorter strokes with more of a side to side roll. The action made Misha start to giggle again, as his unhelpful brain reminded him that if was a bit like _trying to get a cork back into a wine bottle_. 

 

 Severus said nothing. He simpler kissed those laughing lips before sitting up, and draping the man’s legs across his thighs. His hands, going down to grasp Misha’s arse cheeks, thumbs gently spreading him further as Severus rocked into him. The moved together, nothing to be heard but panting breaths and the wet sounds of sex. That is until twin moans echoed through the room as muscles finally relaxed, and gave way and Severus was buried knot deep. 

 

As if afraid that once in, he would leave again, muscles that had kept Severus locked out now tightened and locked him in. He groaned as those same muscles began a rhythmic massage, and he knew he wasn’t going to last long. For the first time since they began, Severus’ hips lost their rhythm and he faltered, his hips juddering at the overwhelming sensation.  

 

This was certainly not his first knotting, but as with all things with this man so far, it was his most amazing. It felt as if they were made for one another. Misha’s slick allowing him movement, even while his muscles kept him close. It was too tight, and too hot, and he felt as if he’d slid himself into a vise, and he never, ever wanted it to end. 

 

But end it must, and he could tell that end was going to come sooner, rather than later. His hips had regained some of their earlier rhythm, but he knew that he was brushing back and forth over Misha’s prostate with every thrust and partial withdrawal. Severus looked at the wrecked man on his bed, and felt only happiness, and something to warm and scary for him to even address at the moment. 

 

A blonde head was tossing from side to side on his pillows, and a fit, young body was arching and flexing beneath him. Every muscled seeming to go taught before relaxing completely, and melting into the mattress before going taught again. The cycle repeating itself over and over again. When Severus wrapped one calloused hand around his lover’s red and weeping cock and squeezed, Misha yowled and bowed to such an impossible degree that only Severus’ knot kept the man from being tossed off completely. 

 

The sudden tug of the knot making them both shudder before a litany of “Oh please, oh please, oh please.” was added to their panting. Severus began to stroke in time to his thrusts. If he’d thought the man wrecked before, it was nothing compared to the squirming blonde puddle that was now begging on his bed. 

 

“Are you close, little one?”

 

“Yes. Yes, yes yes!”

 

“Do you wish to spill?”

 

“Oh please. Please. Yes. Da. Da. Da. Please.”

 

“Or should I make you wait?” The whine was worth it, and made Severus chuckle. Though he had no intention of making either of them wait much longer. Even he was not that cruel. Well, yes he was, just not now.  

 

Misha let out a shuddery breath. “Wait, or not wait. I am yours, _Sir._ Do with me as you wish.” 

 

For the second time that evening, Severus’ hips faltered. That was NOT what he’d expected to hear. The words, their own heady aphrodisiac, catapulted Severus over the edge. His cock surging into the man below him, and his hand matching him stroke for stroke. “Come with me, Misha! Come for me! Give me your allllll” The last morphing into a his as Severus’ orgasm rocketed through him, sending the edges of his world black for a moment as he tossed his head back and groaned out his relief. 

 

His world righted itself once more, as he felt his hand being coated with wet, hot come. He looked down in time to see Misha paint his stomach and chest with the last several shots. 

 

They stayed where they were as their breath evened out. Misha sprawled on the bed, Severus kneeling between his legs. When Misha finally opened his eyes again, it was to see Severus licking his come from his hand. The site, so unexpected and erotic, Misha had to groan as his cock began to twitch with renewed interest. 

 

Severus could only laugh as Misha squirmed about, and grumbled about his “cock being the death of him” and “not having enough sense to be still.” He squirmed even more as Severus tormented him further by swiping the cooling come from his stomach and chest and licking his fingers clean before leaning in and kissing him with come coated lips. In the time it took to clean him, Severus had deflated, and it was with a rather obscene, squishy *pop* that they uncoupled. 

 

Misha opened his mouth to apologize, but before he could Severus said “On your front” and was flipping him over before he’d even gotten an answer. Misha huffed, but did as bidden. Settling himself on his stomach before looking over his shoulder. 

 

“Severus, I should—”

 

“You should relax, and do as your told. Now. Relax.” 

 

He huffed again, but wiggled a bit, getting comfortable before he allowed himself to slump on the bed. He was just going to suggest he should really clean up, before he made too much of a mess when he felt two strong hand kneading his ass cheeks  and all thoughts of movement ceased to matter. 

 

Severus’ hands were heavenly against his skin. He moaned, wondering what the man had planned for him. He didn’t have long to wait and those hands kneaded his flesh, and then pulled his cheeks apart. He was expecting the familiar tingle of Severus magic. What he wasn’t expecting was the warm, wet swipe of a tongue!

 

Before Misha could turn, Severus laid down so that he pinned Misha’s legs to the bed with his shoulders. His hands holding the lovely globes apart so that he had easier access to his treat. “Much more enjoyable than a cleaning charm” LICK “Wouldn’t you say so, Mr. Donahue?”

 

He knew that his lover was talking to him. He knew he was. Unfortunately, all Misha’s poor short circuited mind could muster was a strangled “Unnghhh!”

 

Severus simply laughed “I’ll take that as a yes, Mr. Donahue.” 

 

There was a very good reason that Severus Snape had perfected several gentle but effective cleaning charms. Severus loved rimming. And the only thing he loved more than rimming, was to do it after he had filled the arse in question to over flowing with his own seed. The fact that Mishoa was delicious in his own right, only made the task that much more enjoyable. He’d enjoyed tasting the man’s natural lubricant, and mixed with their taste of their sex… ambrosia. 

 

Some people had a sweet tooth, and when asked what treats he enjoyed, Severus would simply smile and reply that ‘cream pie’ was his favorite. If they only knew… 

 

He reveled in the wetness of it. The sloppiness, and the fact that some might even find it dirty. Though that last, he would never understand. How could paying homage to something that could give so much pleasure, ever be a bad thing? 

 

Severus licked, and sucked. Rolling the wetness around on his tongue, and savoring the flavors, and the textures. He kissed and probed until the only taste left behind was the faintest hint of Misha’s own unique musk. When his tongue and lips could find no more, he gently inserted one finger, and then two. Kissing Misha’s rounded cheeks, and shushing him until his whimper settled into a series of soft, hitching moans.

 

“That’s it, my little one. No more than this. I promise. I simply wish to attend to you.” It was with a shuddering sigh that Misha melted fully into the mattress. By the time that Severus finished, Misha’s breathing was nearly even and he danced on the edge of sleep. 

 

Severus summoned a pair of flannels from the bathroom. Wiping first his lover, and then himself before vanishing them again. 

 

With a wave of his hand they were covered to their chins, the comforter enveloping them in warmth. Severus spooned up behind Misha, kissing the man’s shoulder as he settled in. He didn’t say it aloud, but his mind had taken up a soft chant of ‘Mine. Mine. Mine’. With a sigh, Misha snuggled back into him. Raising the hand that had been resting on his chest, he planted a sleepy kiss on the palm before snuggling down again and whispering “Yes. Yours.”

 

Severus fell asleep with a smile on his face, and dreamed no more. 

 


	9. Rise and, oh, never mind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco decides to be honest. Maybe.

Draco huffs and pants as he runs. Ducking and rolling. Dodging and firing from the hip, over his shoulder, and slinging shit around corners. Hoping he hits his targets and that his parter is fast enough putting up his shields so he doesn’t get him instead. Friendly fire is not so fucking friendly it would seem. His eyes are watering, and his lungs are burning, and it feels like every miserable fucking training exercise they’ve ever had is being shoved up their arses at once. Green, red and some sickening yellow colored curses go flying by his head before he finds temporary safety behind some crates. 

 

There are curses and spells flying everywhere. It’s the two of them against fuck all knows how many. If they’re going to go down, they are going in a blaze of glory. Though truth be told, Draco would rather not go down at all. Not this way at least. In some dank warehouse that was supposed to be fucking empty, but is evidently not. And when did he start fucking swearing so much? Potter. He’ll blame it on Boy Wonder. He’s obviously a bad influence. Always seeming to attract one form of peril or another.  

 

Another spell explodes against the wall above his head. Returning his attention to the present. That was close. Not as close as some others, but still too close for Malfoy’s comfort. One spell had come close enough to singe his hair. The acrid smell making his nose wrinkle.  Another had whizzed across his shoulder leaving a scorch mark in its wake. He was sure the witch in Uniforms and Equipment Acquisitions was going to have something snide to say about Malfoy needing yet more uniform repairs. 

 

And then he found himself laughing. Laughing at the sheer ludicrousness of worrying about the condition of his uniform when there were spells flying by that he was fairly certain were meant to melt him, and his uniform into an unrecognizable pile of ash! He’d laughed until he was nearly hysterical. He laughed until a Ricochet Shield snapped into place in front of his face, centimeters short of his nose, sending a disturbingly colored curse careening back towards its caster. 

 

Draco’s head snapped up to see worried green eyes shining back at him from another set of boxes. His head cocked to the side, and for the first time he wondered what was even in the Merlin forsaken boxes. With his luck, he was sure they would find out later that they had been hiding behind shipping crates full of explosives, or something else equally ridiculous. 

 

 _“Alright there, Malfoy?”_  

 

Draco let out a shuddering breath _“Sure, Potter. Just remembered a funny story. Remind me to tell you about it, yeah?”_

 

Harry shook his head, chuckling softly. _“Sure thing. Let’s get the fuck out of here first, yeah? Then you can tell me whatever you want. Alright, mate? Whatever you want…”_

 

Potter’s smile is brilliant. As bright and dancing as his eyes. Malfoy wants to tell him everything. _‘Whatever he wants’_ , is an awful lot. Considering he only wants it all. Everything, and more. Everything he’s always wanted, but will never have. 

 

 _‘Yeah, whatever.’_ First, they have to get out of this mess. He doesn’t know why, but he needs to tell him. So many secrets, and he’s tired of them all at once. But now’s not the time, and the way this is going, they might not have another time. He’s never felt so betrayed. Not even when the snake headed lunatic was running around barefoot, using his father’s peacocks for target practice. He’d expected no loyalty from a lunatic and his followers. And he’d certainly gotten none. He didn’t however expect to be stabbed in the back by _‘one of their own’._  

 

Maybe that’s why he was having such a hard time focusing. His mind busy trying to figure out who is responsible for this shit storm, and how to make them pay for it. He’s overwhelmed, and he knows it. It’s been years since he’s had an attack, but he can feel it closing in on him now. If it were just him, that would be one thing… but his partner. He shakes his head. Glad that his braid is holding firm. Last thing he needs is his hair in his face to contend with along with everything else. _‘Stupid fucking Malfoy traditions. Stupid fucking’_ … his internal rant is cut short with a hissed— 

 

_“Draco!”_

 

His head snaps round to find green eyes full of worry staring back at him. He shakes his head again. _“I’m fine, Potter. Just had a bit of a moment. I’m done.”_

 

A lopsided smile is his reward. _“Didn’t look fine, and I was wondering if you could you kindly have one of your Prima Donna moments when we’re not in the shit? Thanks ever so much.”_

 

If they were in school, Draco would have hexed the prat all the way to the infirmary for that kind of comment. Hell, a few years ago, he still would have at least considered it. But now? Now he knew it for what it was. One of Potter’s defense mechanisms was to joke and tease when stressed. This was his way of letting Malfoy know his _‘melt down’_ was understandable and warranted, even if it was ill timed. There was no bite to the words, and the look on Harry’s face told Draco everything he needed to hear, but there wasn’t time to say. 

 

 _“Yes, yes. Never time for me and MY needs.”_ The back of a pale hand meets his forehead with a soft *thwap* _“As per usual. ‘No time for a melt down now, Draco old man. Too much too do. There’s a good lad’.”_ They both grin like lunatics. As if the air above and around them is filled with Cheering Charms instead of spells that Draco has every intention of seeing made illegal when they get out of here. Some of the shit being thrown their way is foul. How else would you describe a spell that makes things scream themselves hoarse and then explode? Draco was glad it was a rat instead of one of them, but still. Foul. 

 

Potter does some crazy roll across the floor, firing the whole time he’s moving. His body a blur of black hair and torn maroon robes. He settles next to Malfoy, and the bastard is laughing. Malfoy throws a few hexes around the edge of his box, and they both start to giggle as they hear a scream and a thud from the other side of the warehouse.  

 

They nod at one another, and both move and fire across the room. Draco over the top this time, and Harry around the edge of the box. They curse as they see one of their spells heading back to them and duck just at the Incarcerous hits the wall over their heads, and the ropes fall in a heap on the floor. 

 

“Well. Fuck.”

 

“Indeed.”

 

“Mercenaries.” 

 

“So it appears.”

 

“Auror trained mercenaries.”

 

Draco can only sigh. Reflecting spells are not new. Reflecting spells of _that_ strength have been a closely guarded Auror secret for years. “Well. Fuck.”

 

“Later.” Green eyes twinkle as a smirk takes over plump red lips that Draco has NOT spent an inordinate amount of time thinking about. Nor has he spent any appreciable amount of time wondering what they might feel like pressed against his skin. No. Not at all. Not in the least. Nope.

 

Draco chokes on nothing, and stares at his partner. He knows he didn’t just hear that. No way in Hades. He sits, blinking. Mute as if he’d been hit with a Silencio. A Silencio, but not a Muffliato. He can hear the laughter. Feel it shake their shoulders where they are leaning against one another for support. He looks over, ready to see derision. Waiting to hear _‘Come on, Malfoy. Can’t you take a joke?’_ But when he looks, he sees only a smile. Warm and comforting. He hears the laughter, but it’s no mean sound, meant to rip him to pieces. It too causes an unaccustomed warmth, and an inconvenient tightness. 

 

 _“Right now, we need to get out of this mess.”_ The smile is still there, but now it’s a bit hard, determined. _“Do you have your…?”_

 

_“Yeah, I do. But I’m not leaving here without you.”_

 

_“Look! If something happens to me, I want you to…”_

 

 _“No!”_ came the angry hiss. _“I’m not about to ditch my partner to save my skin, so fuck you! OK? Good. We’re getting out of this together!”_

 

 _‘FUCK!’_ How can he even suggest it?!? Not with what just passed between them. Always the noble fucking idiot Gryffindor. 

 

A quick squeeze to his shoulder and a muttered _“Right. Let’s do this then.”_   And then they’re on the move again. He sees the spell, but can’t stop it. He grabs his partner. The pull. The scream. He hears it over and over. The voice is new though. The voice is adamant. Like a Sonorous Charm going off in his head that says _“Protect the mate!”_

 

_***_

 

Draco wakes with a start. Flat on his back, and trying to focus on the ceiling. The room is still mostly dark. He’s not sure if it’s from the time of day (night?) or if it’s due to the shutters that let in very little natural light to begin with. He moans and wills his pulse to slow, urging the fog to clear at the same time. It’s been the same damn ‘dream’ every time he’s closed his eyes and tried to rest. Though it’s not really a dream. More a memory replaying itself over, and over. Each replay filling in a bit more of the picture. The voice had been new, and Draco wondered if he’d actually heard it, or if his mind was beginning to make things up, the way it does. Morphing it from a memory into a dream. Trying to make sense of the nonsensical. He wonders if he should pull the memory before it becomes too muddled. Copy it and put it aside for pensive viewing later. 

 

He moves to scrub the sleep from his eyes, and clear his mind when the first cold threads of panic wrap around him like an unwelcome hug. He can’t move his arm. His whole side is numb now that he concentrates and tries to move. His brain quickly goes over the spells and curses that had been hurled their way, wondering first which of them had been the paralysis spell, and trying to recall if he knew the counter curse. Thankfully (if one can be thankful for being partially paralyzed) it’s his non dominant wand hand that seems to be affected. 

 

He’s trying to shift again when a poke to his side startles a yelp out of him. “You make a most UNRULY pillow!” 

 

It takes the last of his resolve to not sob in relief as memories of the the day (hours?) before come flooding back. _‘Harry’._ He remembers the floating. And being pulled into the bed. And an arm full of Potter. Draco pulls back to look into ‘spring grass’ green eyes and all he can do is smile like a fool. Those eyes that had been closed for so many days are staring at him now, and all he can see is how amazingly full of life they are. 

 

He’s heard them called Avada Kedavra green, maybe even thought it himself a time or two. And while that may be true, a little bit, he can’t think of anything more insulting than saying it out loud to the person who lost family and friends to that curse.  At that moment he vows that he’ll never again think of them that way. He can’t. Not with the joy that he’s seen dance in them, and he promises himself to throttle the next plonker that attempts to use it as a pick up line! He and Harry still cringe thinking about it.  

 

_“Your eyes really are Avada Kedavra green, because you’re killing me with your looks!”_

 

He was sure the guy had been trying to pay his partner a compliment. Instead he’d left him horrified, and Draco speechless. He’d continued to drunkenly rattle off every inane chat up line he could manage in his inebriated state before Draco had finally sketched a half assed bow, grabbed Harry by the elbow and made some excuse for both of them while leading him away. Something about a _“Wrackspurt infestation they needed to attend to immediately.”_

 

The man had continued to babel, eventually yelling _“Floo ME!”_ as Malfoy had liberated two tumblers of Firewhiskey from a passing elf, and escorted Harry into gardens of the manor where the miserable farce of a  Ministry soirée was taking place. They’d sat together on a bench enjoying the unseasonably warm evening. The silence disturbed only now and again by the gentle tinkling of ice in their glasses. They had stayed that way until their glasses were empty, and a house elf had come to offer them refills, and ask if they would like anything to eat. After accepting two more tumblers of whiskey, some water, and several plates of food, they had made a nighttime picnic of sorts out of it. Transfiguring a leaf into a blanket and plunking themselves down after removing their outer robes. They’d managed to avoid the rest of the party until it was mostly wound down, and it was safe for them to go into the manor to say their goodbyes and leave. Malfoy had insured Potter that they had not committed a social faux pas as they had been seen at both the beginning of the evening, as well as the end. 

 

And if Draco happened to consider the best time he’d ever had at one of these events to date, that was neither here, nor there. 

 

The blonde was shaken out of his reverie by a tingling up and down his arm. When he looked, Potter was slowly easing away from him. Working on instinct, and ignoring the tingles Draco tightened his hold. “Don’t.” 

 

His grip tightens again as Harry’s huff against the part of his shoulder where his head was now resting makes him shiver. “Why not?”

 

“Because.”

 

Another huff. “Because, WHY?” 

 

Draco pulled back to get a better look at his partner. He had sworn that if they got out of that fresh hell, he would be honest with himself, and Harry. He tightened his hold before closing his eyes and finally putting voice to feelings he had long tried to ignore. “Because. Because I don’t want you to. Because I like you just where you are. Because I’ve wanted this for a long time, and now that I’ve got it, even for a little while, I don’t want to let it go. Because I almost lost you, you great Gryffindor TWAT! And I can’t…just… Because. Alright. Because.“

 

There was a great exasperated sigh, and then a laugh before Potter settled down again. “Well then. Why didn’t you just say so. No need to be a big girl’s blouse about it.” 

 

“Why you little gobshite! I’ll have you know—“ Draco squealed mid tirade as a thick, tanned finger poked him again.

 

“Shhhhh! Noisy pillow is too noisy.”

 

“Why you miserable little—“ 

 

*POKE* “Shhhhh.” 

 

Malfoy had plenty more to say, but suddenly his eye lids were just too heavy, and the bed, such a blessed relief from the transfigured chaise was just too inviting. The extra weight on his arm no longer alarming, but comforting. Draco closed his eyes, smiling as he felt the tickle of soft black hair under his chin. He would deal with the whole ‘talkative pillow’ issue later. *yawn* much later. 

 


	10. Hello Sleeping Beauties

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What has been seen, cannot be unseen. Oh wait… Obliviate!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here there be elf speak. I tried my best to not let him sound like Jar-Jar. I fear I was only mildly successful *grump*

When Draco woke next it was to the sounds of a whispered conversation, and the smell of breakfast. Sausage, bacon, toast at the very least. And Coffee, with cinnamon. Just as he liked it. He hadn’t bothered asking Potter’s house elves to make it. He was simply happy to have coffee at all.  

 

He kept his eyes closed as he caught snatches of the conversation until a high pitched, squeaky voice saying “Professor Bat be saying…” made him end his ‘spying’ and let them know he was actually awake. When he looked over at Harry he felt himself blush straight to the roots of his hair. It was obvious from the fond look on his face that Harry had known he was awake the whole time. 

 

“Morning, Sleeping Beauty. Sorry for waking you up.” Draco said nothing, just sat up to admire the view of Harry walking back to the bed. He didn’t always get Harry’s Muggle references, but this one he knew. “I had planned on letting you sleep in for a bit” he said as he climbed back onto the bed and sat beside Draco. 

 

Draco was still smiling as he leaned into Harry before whispering “If I remember correctly, wasn’t Sleeping Beauty woken up with a kiss?” 

 

Now it was Harry’s turn to blush. “Ummm. Well, yes. Ummmm.” Draco could only chuckle as he watched Harry run a nervous hand through his ink black curls. “Ummm. Later?” 

 

They had both changed so much since their Hogwarts days. But for some reason Draco still loved making this usually strong, and confident man blush. Unlike their Hogwarts days, the teasing now was good natured, and meant to cause warm cheeks instead of cold hearts. Even with the poison now removed, and the edges of the blades blunted to the realm of butter knives, the blonde loved having the ability to still fluster his partner. The boy who was so easy to embarrass in school was no more. 

 

Potter had a reputation for being stone cold when he needed to be. Over the years, he’d developed the ability to silence the entire Wizengamot with a look. He was also more than willing and perfectly able to stand before the Wizengamot and take them on toe to toe over issues he cared about. No longer the shy, unsure young man of the past. Now, he was a formidable man that few wished to cross. And yet, it just did something to Draco on a visceral level to be the one to make those pretty cheeks flush. The ability to make him come undone, just a wee bit. It made him wonder what he would be like in other situations… wondering just how far the blush might travel, in the right situation. 

 

“Later? Hmmmmm. I’ll hold you to that, Potter.” And there it was. It was like watching the march of Spring across the English countryside. It bloomed ever so nicely. Ohhhh, and this one was especially nice! Draco watched as it spread along those lovely cheek bones, encompassed his throat, and disappeared into the neck of the nightshirt Harry had slipped on. He could imagine it suffusing his chest, making those dusky nipples even darker. The blonde smiled imaging just how far down that blush might actually go. 

 

Taking in the look on his partner’s face, Harry laughed nervously. “Well yes. OK then. Good.” He’d seen that look before, just, you know, never directed it him. It was what he often thought of as the ‘Malfoy wants. Malfoy gets.’ look. Though why it was being aimed at him, Harry had no idea. Come to think of it, he did have some idea. It was maddening to him that after all these years, the git could still leave him tongue tied, and blushing. Worse still, he seemed to enjoy Harry’s floundering, which of course made it worse still. _‘Of course… that would explain loads.’_

 

Harry smiled, having figured out that it was just one more of Draco’s windups. “Later. Don’t forget.”

 

The look Draco gave him made his brain stutter. “Don’t worry, Harry. I won’t forget. Now, what’s this about ‘Professor Bat?’ ”

 

*****

 

The little elf had hopped onto the end of the bed while they’d been talking. It took Draco a moment to recognize him as he was dressed, and rather oddly at that. “Dobby?!?” 

 

The whole creatures little body vibrated, his ears wiggling about like two tiny satellite dishes. “Master Dracos! Yous be remembering Dobby?!?” 

 

Harry said nothing as he watched Draco open his arms, and his little house elf practically fly over to him, thudding into him and knocking them both back into the wall of pillows. They had talked, after they’d become friends, and Harry knew that Draco had seemed to care about Dobby. He told Potter that the elf had always tried to protect him from Lucius, often taking the blame for things Draco had done in order to save him from punishments. Harry was now ashamed that he hadn’t thought to get the two of them together sooner. He had told Draco about Dobby being at Hogwarts, and his working for Harry at other properties, but it had simply never occurred to Harry just call the little elf for a visit. 

 

Even with Draco’s words, he’d simply assumed that Draco was being polite. Inquiring after the elf because he’d once belonged to the Malfoy family, and being extra considerate knowing that Harry cared about the little creature. 

 

Watching the two of them together, foreheads touching, and in a semi secret world all their own, Harry knew that he had completely misjudged the man sitting next to him. This was more the mere polite interest. This was watching a small boy get his childhood friend back. Harry turned slightly so as to watch the interaction more carefully. It was easy to see that he didn’t know his friend and partner as well as he’d thought. And wasn’t that funny that the friendship came before the partner in Harry’s mind now…

 

They talked for a few more minutes before Draco gave the elf a hug, and they separated. “Now, what’s all this about Severus?”

 

Dobby’s little ears fluttered so fast, Harry could feel a breeze coming off of them. “He be saying that I iz not to disturbs hims unless it be ‘of vital importance!’” At the last, the little elf had pulled himself up to his full height, folded his arms, and put on such a scowl that both Harry and Draco fell back laughing. 

 

Wiping tears from his eyes, Harry finally found his voice again. “Well, Dobby. That was a most excellent impression of The Professor. And I do think this counts. I’m sure that The Professor would want to know that Draco and I are safe. Yes?” 

 

Harry had to stifle his laugh as the little elf’s enthusiasm had his stockinged feet slipping about on the duvet as he bounced. “Oh, YES! Master Harrys! We was all worried about you, and Master Draco. But Master Draco take good care of yous, and we being trying to take good cares of Master Draco!”

 

“We… Dobby… how many of you were here?” Harry simply raised an eyebrow and waited as his elf began to blush. Draco for his part simply snorted, not knowing that elves could blush. 

 

“Well—“ The little elf had stopped bouncing and began tugging the ends of his ears

 

 

“Dobby…”

 

“Not many of us!” Harry raised the other eyebrow and Dobby hurried on. “Not all! Some is still at Hogwarts and can’t leaves, and at…well, not all!” Harry still said nothing and the little elf huffed and plopped down on the bed. “Just mees, and Winky, Plinky, Otter, Carla, Carol, Tootsie, Damon, Binky. Oh and Thomas.”

 

This time it was Draco’s turn to raise a brow. “Potter… exactly how many house elves do you have? 

 

Dobby had gone silent but his little ears were going like a Thestral’s wings at top speed. Draco knew that just from what little he’d heard, Harry had more elves bonded to him than had been at the manor. It took strong magic to have and hold onto an elf bond. To carry multiple bonds… Draco knew that Harry was a strong wizard. How strong was something he kept as a well guarded secret, and Draco wasn’t sure if there was anyone that knew all of Harry’s secrets. At the moment, he realized that it must be a rather tiring and lonely existence. Even though Harry didn’t know everything, he knew more about him than most. And he had his mother and Severus who knew most things as well. Though he did suspect that both of them knew more than even he told them. 

 

“Harry…”

 

Potter huffed before mumbling “Just add it to the list of ‘laters’” 

 

Draco simply smiled and nodded “As you will.” Turning to Dobby he smiled again. “So. You, my little friend, get to go and visit Professor Bat for us.” 

 

Dobby wore a little frown, but nodded solemnly. “I be doing it.” He paused before looking at Harry “May I also be telling the Grangy?”

 

“Hermione? Why—“

 

“Professor Bat talked to hers when he not hear from yous, or Master Draco. She’s be by Grimmauld two times now. I knows Kreacher be betters now” Dobby bit his lip, and his ears wiggled. It looked as if he were trying to decide what to say before he blurted “I be worried that he be cross with the Grangy. Maybe be mean. He be a very BAD elf! He’s no hiding when he’s unhappy! EVERYBODY KNOWS!”

 

“Would you tell me, if you were unhappy, Dobby?” Harry wondered if his little elf was unhappy and had never mentioned it.

 

Giggling, Dobby just wiggled his ears harder. “How can I bees unhappy? I gets to serve my Harry Potter!” Harry smiled as the little elf went on “I is happy with you, Master Harry. And I was happy with my Masters Draco, and my Miss Cissy. But I HATES Masters Lucius and his father. They be mean, horrible wizards!” 

 

All Harry could do was nod. He didn’t know Draco’s grandfather, but he couldn’t imagine him being that different from Lucius, which made him shudder a bit.

 

“But Masters Lucius never know what I feels. Not until I was FREE and he tries to hurt my Harry Potter!”

 

Harry laughed at the look on Draco’s face and recounted the tale of him freeing Dobby, and then Lucius trying to hex him in the hallway. “—and the next thing I know. He’s sliding arse over walking stick down the corridor! That’s when I understood exactly how much power house elves actually have! The fact that they serve wizards is a blessing actually. Not sure what we ever did to deserve it, but I respect them for it, and thank them for it. ” 

 

Harry smiled and Dobby just stood there grinning with pride. 

 

“Master Harry makes sure I was better, after Ms. Bella try to hurt us all.” 

 

This time it was Draco’s turn to shudder. He remembered the Snatcher’s bringing Harry, Hermione and Weasley to the manor. Memories of his crazy aunt torturing Hermione, and of Dobby’s mad bravery. Dobby made his way over to Draco and patted his hand. “It be OK, Master Draco. I wants to drop a house on mean witch, like in that Muggle story. But I no has one!” The annoyed little huff made both men laugh. “That be OK though. Big, _ugly_ chandelier works almost as goods!”

 

There was no way they were going to survive that, and all 3 of them collapsed in peels of laughter on the bed. 

 

They eventually sent the little elf off to Severus with messages that they were well, now, as well as copies of their altercation in the warehouse. They both knew that Severus would want to know what happened, and it would be easier for him to see it than for them to try to tell the man everything that had occurred. Draco had also sent along a copy of his treatment of Harry’s wounds (with some discreet editing of course. Severus didn’t need to know everything!) They told him to see Hermione first to save both her, and Kreacher any more stress. 

 

It had taken some talking to, but eventually, even Hermione was willing to admit that submission was not the same as slavery. And that volunteer slavery, though not her thing, was a valid choice for some beings, including House Elves. They had both agreed that any being held against their will and/or abused should be helped to regain their freedom and independence, or at the very least, a better situation, but other than that, it wasn’t their place to meddle if the beings were happy. When she’d actually stopped and talked to house elves, seen the kinds of power they wielded, and understood the dynamic better she had apologized. If there was one thing she hated, it was to appear ignorant, and her views had been. Very. Though of course, once that was taken care of, her cause became to help any House Elf that wanted it. Her goal, amongst many others, was to make sure no House Elf was ever again abused as Winky or Dobby had been. 

 

Harry smiled as Dobby popped away, wondering for not the first time if he was saving Hermione from Kreacher, or Kreacher from Hermione. For all his protest, the surly little elf respected Hermione now, though Harry was willing to do what he had to to not hear from either of them about the incident upon his return.

 

***

 

They were just finishing up breakfast, Draco remarking for at least the third time how much he’d missed Dobby’s croissants while scarfing down another one, along with his coffee when the little elf popped back into the room. 

 

Harry could tell at once that something was wrong. “Dobby…” The little elf was shuffling his feet, and wouldn’t make eye contact with either Harry or Draco. Harry tried again, this time sliding to his knees so that he was at Dobby’s height. “Dobby… what is it?”

 

The little elf pulled on his ears for several seconds before finally bursting “I be thinking the Grangy was BAD! I never go see Professor Bat again! Yous can owls him. Or has him change wards!” 

 

“O-kayyyy.”  Harry looked at Draco, but he looked as perplexed as Harry felt. Summoning a chair for Dobby, Harry motioned for him to sit. “OK, Dobs. You’re going to need to start at the beginning. Breathe and take your time. OK?”

 

Dobby nodded, and plopped into the chair. Harry took a good look at him, and realized that he was blushing. A LOT. _‘Oh Merlin. What in the world happened that could make Dobby blush this much!’_

 

Harry offered the elf tea and scones, both of which Dobby accepted. He waited until Dobby’s ear flapping had returned to normal before trying to coax the little creature to tell what happened. 

 

“Feeling better?” 

 

Dobby smiled and nodded before popping another bit of chocolate chip scone into his mouth.

 

Harry was exceedingly patient. “Going to tell us what happened?” 

 

Draco actually behaved himself and only thought _‘Sometime, TODAY!’_

 

After another bit of scone, and some tea, Dobby blushed again. “I went to see the Grangy first. I know she be very worried always about my Harry Potter.” He grinned and took another bit of scone. “And I tells her that you are ok, and she thanks me for _finally_ letting her knows what happens.” 

 

Harry could imagine the tone THAT had come out in. Hermione, for all her growing up, still hated to be the last to know, anything. As if reading his mind, Dobby gave a little huff and continued. “I not think it’s fair, she be mad at the Harry Potter when he was so sick. I told her that we be letting her know as soon as we cans, and that she knows before Professor Bat. She seems to like that. I also tells her that the wards not be allowing Master Draco to come and go, or even sends a message. And they not be allowing us to show ourselves eithers. She says she doesn’t understands, but she be accepting it, and she wants to see you when you are betters.” 

 

Draco tilted his head and looked at Harry for a moment. “To be honest, Potter. I don’t understand it either.”

 

Harry was about to snap at the interruption, but one look at Dobby told him the elf welcomed the pause in his story telling. He looked at Draco again and shrugged. “Call it more of my paranoia, if you wish. I figure, if someone gets me to one of the houses, they can’t send ransom notes and such. They are going to be stuck dealing with me, and only me. The elves are under strict orders to not show themselves. I don’t want someone harming them to get to me. They are allowed to bring food, and medical supplies, though I did see that _someone_ has been bringing you The Prophet and the Quibbler.” Dobby said nothing, but Harry smirked noticing the ear wiggling had increased again.

 

“But why not have the elves just send for help, or have them heal you?” Draco looked confused by the whole set up. 

 

“I know it seems like it would be easier. But I thought about it, and I don’t want any of my friends and family to have to negotiate with some maniac for my release. And while I would LOVE for the elves to heal me, I find that I just don’t heal as well when they do it. Maybe it’s all the leftover curse residue, who knows. But, I figure if someone is here trying to heal me, they can’t be all bad, so the elves are allowed to bring them supplies at least.”

 

It all sounded a bit convoluted to Draco. But then again, knowing what he did of Harry’s past, there was probably a damn good reason he had put all those safeguards in place. Sadly. 

 

Dobby had been sitting there nodding along the whole time, as if it all made perfect sense. “Master Harry Sirs has _always_ cared extra much for creatures and beings other wizards overlooks. If he says we do it because he wants us safe, we does it.” He was nodding vigorously now, little ears a flapping. Draco noticed, not for the first time that when he really got going, they sounded like the beating wings of bats. 

 

Harry was as anxious for information as he was. “So then what happened? Did you go to see The Professor?” 

 

“No…” Harry only raised an eyebrow, and waited. “I went to see Kreacher first. I know he worries about his Master Harry too. So I went there next.” 

 

Of course. Kreacher for all of his bluster, did actually take very good care of Harry when he was at Grimmauld Place. “That’s fine, Dobby. And thank you for doing that. I should have thought of it myself.”

 

Long, thin fingers patted Harry’s hand, and Dobby had the most serious expression on his little face. “Don’t be worrying about it, Harry Potter. Yous was very ill. It normal you not think of everythings. That’s why you be having a Dobby!”

 

Draco took in the two of them sitting there together, and something tight made itself known in his chest. Harry was smiling, and assuring Dobby that yes, he was _‘very glad to have his very own Dobby to make sure things got done’_. His partner’s smile was easy and light, and when he met Draco’s eyes, there was something there that made his breath catch. It was suddenly very telling that the one creature that Harry seemed to relax fully around, was one that had voluntarily sworn to protect him, and keep his secrets. A creature that others overlooked, and took for granted, but one that was willing to put his magic, and his very life on the line for the man that treated him with respect. 

 

Suddenly Dobby’s blush was back in full force AND his ears were going again. This time it was Draco who smiled and said “What is it, Dobby? Did something happen with my Godfather?” 

 

“I…”

 

“Yes?”

 

“I…”

 

Harry and Draco exchanged looks. “Go on Dobby.” and “It’s OK, you can tell us.” and “There’s a good fellow.”

 

A bit more mumbling before and adamant “Hes really needs to be changing his wards. Dobby would have never if I knew…”

 

“Knew what Dobby?”

 

“That hes be having _‘company’_ ”

 

“Company?” It was like there was an echo. “What kind of company, Dobby?”

 

The blush went crimson before he whispered “Naked companys!”

 

Then it was a good ten minutes before the two young men could stop laughing, and figure out what in Circe’s Golden G-String was going on. 

 

*****

 

“Wait. Wait. Wait. Let me get this straight”

 

“Wait, whats” I not go no wheres! Why you say waits?”

 

“No I mean, ummm. Are you saying that Severus wasn’t alone?”

 

The elf looked at them as if they might have bumped their heads recently. *sigh* “That’s what I saying. _Company_!” 

 

Harry and Draco exchanged looks, but said nothing and waited for Dobby to continue. 

 

“I going overs, just like Masters tells me to. And I heard noises like maybe Professor Bat is hurt, so I follow the noises to the sitting room. Only… they was not sittings! OK they was sittings, but now how yous always sits in there!”

 

“They??” “Who?”

 

“Dobby not see other wizard before. But him very handsome.” At that Dobby’s smile got very wide “And him is young too.”

 

“Well.”

 

“Well, indeed”

 

“Well, then Professor Bat yelled at me to wait for them in the dining room. So I be a good elf and go wait. Them gets there, eventually.”

 

“Oh God!”

 

“Circe’s Tits!”

 

Dobby acted like he hadn’t heard them. “When them comes in, I told Professor Bat that you were OK, and I gave him the pensive memories, and he went and saw them. He says to tell you that he’s glad you is both OK. That you should rest, and he sees you in a week, not before.”

 

Harry had an inscrutable look on his face. 

 

Draco was also confused. He’d had a vital meeting with his Godfather that he’d missed. “A week? But I had a meeting with him!”

 

At that Harry’s head snapped round to look at him, but the man said nothing so he went back to Dobby. “Did he say anything else? I really needed to see him.” Draco was trying to keep the whine out of his voice, but he knew he wasn’t being terribly successful. 

 

“I don’t know what he means, but he says ‘You both be too late. That there be nothing to do this month, and maybe not after that. He not sure. But he will check.” 

 

Draco looked over at Harry. To the untrained eye, he looked fine. But Draco knew better. He could see the tightness around the corners of his eyes and mouth, and his hands had slipped to his lap, and turned themselves into two tight balls. When he spoke even his voice was tight. “Too late? Did he say anything else, Dobby?”

 

Pulling on the tips of his ears he thought for a moment before nodding. “He says not to worry. He also says that sometimes the best mate, is the best mate.”

 

“Not to worry.” Harry’s eyes were distant. Focused somewhere far away from the room they were all in now. 

 

“The other wizard be saying that he make sure you not loose any money, or time for being gone. So no worry there, Master Harry.” 

 

“Money, I have enough of, and time I’ll have plenty of soon enough.” 

 

Malfoy REALLY didn’t like the turn this conversation was taking, but he didn’t know what to do about it, yet. “Dobby… the other wizard, did he say what his name was?”

 

“No. He not say. But Dobby think Professor not sure either, he kept calling him Mr. Don’t Know You.”

 


End file.
